


Too Beautiful to Fuck (Abandoned)

by captainblanderson (orphan_account)



Category: Glee
Genre: Boypussy Kurt, M/M, Mpreg, Student Kurt, Teacher Blaine, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/captainblanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Student!Kurt seduces Teacher!Blaine into taking his virginity and gets knocked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a fill for a prompt on the Glee Kink Meme. A link to the prompt (as well as extensive warnings and detail) and the story itself can also be found on my Tumblr: captainblanderson.tumblr.com

Every article of clothing he owned Kurt had carefully tailored to fit his body. It drew boys’ eyes; it was especially satisfying for Kurt to see some of the shocked faces. The ones where he could practically see the brains behind them working to understand why they found themselves ogling a boy’s ass.

And not just his ass, either. It was common knowledge that Kurt had a pussy. He’d hooked up with enough guys for it to be a confirmed rumor. Kurt thought it particularly amusing that, though he’d never lost his virginity to any of them, the collective agreement was that Kurt was a slut. The boys of Dalton knew him that way. His reputation had even spread to Crawford Country Day, and the girls gossiped about him.

It was only two months into his senior year and Kurt knew already that it was going to be the best year yet. He’d had a boy in his grade in his sights for a little more than six weeks. He was one of Dalton’s Warblers, the school’s show choir. He was tall and broad-chested and absolutely gorgeous. And he claimed to be straight, but that had never deterred Kurt before. It only made it more fun when the straight boys finally gave in and jumped him.

Hunter would take a while, though. And Kurt liked getting his pussy eaten too much to wait for that. It could take months.

It was a day in early October, one of the last nice days of the year, and Kurt had taken the opportunity to wear his tiniest jean shorts. He sat at his desk in English with one leg crossed over the other, putting nearly his entire right thigh on display. He’d seen Hunter look over once. Just once, but that was enough.

Beside Kurt, one of the boys on the rugby team was looking at him. Kurt had hooked up with him before—he was gorgeous, that was to be sure. He just wasn’t the best at licking pussy, and that was Kurt’s absolute favorite. Still, he would do for now. Kurt smiled at him teasingly and crossed his legs more tightly, causing his shorts to ride up further.

As he was doing this, he missed the substitute (whom they’d had the past four weeks, ever since their teacher had had a heart attack and gone on medical leave) telling them that the school had hired a new teacher for them, and that teacher would be starting tomorrow.

After school that day Kurt and the rugby player drove to the overlook at the beach and made out until sunset. Kurt let him touch his pussy, but like every other time with any other boy, he never allowed him to use fingers. He had a fantasy about his first time. It probably wasn’t like most other people’s fantasies, he thought, but what of that? He wanted to be nice and tight for the person he decided to give his virginity to. He wanted it to hurt a little bit; for that cock to rip him open.

Hunter seemed like a possibility, but there was doubt. Kurt was fairly certain that, when he found the man, he’d know. It would be like the answer to a good riddle: self-evident.

* * *

Blaine walked into the apartment carrying two bags from Office Depot. They were filled with school supplies, because just last week, he’d landed a job at a private high school for boys in Westerville. It was wealthy and prestigious and it was a better job than Blaine could have ever dreamed of obtaining. Of course, Ohio wasn’t ideal, but teaching jobs were impossible these days, and he wasn’t about to pass up a job at a private high school just because he didn’t want to be in the place he’d grown up. He’d always planned on moving out, getting to some big city or another, but this job (right out of his undergrad, no less) was the best he was going to find anywhere.

“Will?” Blaine called, shutting the door behind him and dropping the bags onto the coffee table in the living room. “Babe, where are you?”

“Kitchen!” came from down the hallway. Blaine smiled to himself, feeling that familiar warm and tingly feeling when he came home to Will cooking dinner for him. Trying to cook dinner, might be more accurate. He found his boyfriend staring intently at the contents of pan on the stove top. It smelled like it was supposed to be stir fry, but had burned in soy sauce and a mixture of herbs. It was highly unpleasant, but sort of endearing.

Blaine slipped his arms around Will’s waist and kissed his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, “why don’t I order Chinese food?”

Will huffed. “I wish I could cook.”

Blaine chuckled and kissed Will’s cheek. “We’re a couple destined to frozen food and takeout.” This made Will laugh and he turned his head to return Blaine’s kiss.

“Hey, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” he said when Blaine had let him go so he could start cleaning up the mess he’d made. Blaine took down a glass and grabbed the open bottle of red wine they’d started the night before. He poured a good amount and handed it to Will, who took it with a coy smile, then made one for himself.

“It sure is. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m excited. These are smart kids, ya know? It’s a good curriculum. I can really get into the books with them.”

Will sipped his wine and looked at Blaine over the rim with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sure they’re very smart and incredibly talented.” He smirked. “But don’t forget, Blaine, it’s an all boys school. Don’t let yourself think that just ‘cause it’s a private institution they’re gonna be well-behaved.”

Blaine waved him off. They’d wandered into the living room and Blaine pulled Will down into his lap, nuzzling his neck before reaching into his pocket for his phone to order the Chinese.

“There’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, nipping at Will’s ear. “No group of kids I can’t whip into shape.”

Blaine dialed, and as the phone was ringing, Will leaned into his ear.

“I love it when you get all authoritative,” he breathed. Blaine squeezed his thigh but Will only chuckled. “Mm, if you were my teacher, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He breathed across Blaine’s neck, and then added, “Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine had never gotten so hard so quickly in his life.

* * *

The classroom was perfect. Blaine had gotten to the school early on his first day just to sit behind the desk and shuffle his papers and look out at the empty seats. In an hour and a half they’d be filled with rowdy teenagers who cared not one iota for language or literature. And Blaine was going to change that, even if he had to drag them kicking and screaming by the ears.

The headmaster walked into the room and Blaine stood so abruptly he nearly knocked his chair over. He blushed, but the headmaster only chuckled. He was an old man who, despite his notoriety for zero-tolerance rule-breaking, was a genuinely good person. It hadn’t escaped Blaine’s notice when he’d first been hired by the school that that zero-tolerance policy extended to bullying and harassment. So yes, Tom Boyd was a strict man; but he was fair, and beyond that, he cared about his students. And Blaine admired him for it.

“Only me,” Tom said, waving his hand at Blaine’s gesture of having stood when he walked into the room. “How’re you feeling? You know, we’ve never hired a teacher quite so young before.” He raised one bushy eyebrow, but Blaine saw his mustache twitch with a smile.

“I’m thrilled, sir,” Blaine told him. He was so thrilled, in fact, that he couldn’t sit back down. “You’ll have no reason to regret hiring someone my age.”

Tom laughed, nodded. He appeared genuinely unconcerned. “I don’t doubt you for a moment, Blaine.” And it was still novelty for Blaine, to be addressed by teachers as an equal. He couldn’t seem to kick the “sir” habit, but he thought it would eventually fade away. He’d been a TA his last two years of college, but it was different. This was his class. His class to teach however he wanted. “I just stopped by to wish you luck and see if there was anything else you needed from me before the first bell rings.”

Blaine grinned, his chest swelling with excitement and elation. This was it. He had a real class. And a classroom. He had students. He was only twenty-three, for god’s sake, and he was an hour away from beginning his first real teaching job. At a private school.

“I think I’m all set,” he said, and Tom nodded, still smiling.

“I think you are too.” Tom gave Blaine a thumbs-up before leaving, letting the door swing shut behind him. Blaine took in a deep breath and looked around the room, feeling as though his smile might become permanently etched onto his face if he didn’t cool it.

Ten minutes before the bell was set to ring, Blaine opened the door and stoppered it. He leaned against the edge of his desk and watched as the students began to wander in, most of them looking sleepy and on the other end of the spectrum from Blaine in terms of enthusiasm. When the bell rang, he shut the door, and the class quieted. He didn’t delude himself into thinking this was because they were well-behaved; it was because they were curious, particularly at finding their new teacher so young.

And he was young, but Blaine wasn’t a pushover. When he’d told Will he knew how to handle a classroom, he hadn’t been showing off. Blaine loved kids, he loved teaching, and he wanted to do it for the rest of his life. But he had no qualms about being strict when he needed to be. In fact, it was one of the things he liked so much about Tom Boyd: the man was an exemplary person in his eyes. Just the right amount of no-bullshit.

During his first four periods, Blaine had very little trouble. The boys were all too interested in their new teacher to be much of a pain as of yet. There were a few showoffs who made what they probably thought were witty remarks which Blaine either countered (depending on what was said, and both times this had happened the class had fallen silent with reluctant respect) or else ignored.

It was sixth period that threw Blaine for a loop.

He noticed the boy when he walked in, eyes drawn to the sway of his hips and the little shorts he was wearing that showed off a whole lot of smooth, pale leg. And those legs went on for days. Blaine had to literally wrench his eyes away, feeling his face suddenly flare with heat when he realized he’d been staring.

And wow, something about the way that kid was looking at him, like he knew…it made Blaine nervous. And not in an entirely bad way, either. Which, actually, made it a very bad way.

He shook his head.

“I’m Mr. Anderson,” he told them, “the new English teacher.” His eyes flickered to the boy and away again. He gave the class the same spiel he’d given the last four (having had an hour to regroup during fifth period) and handed out a syllabus that outlined the topics they’d be covering and the books they’d be reading up through the end of the first semester. And the whole time, his eyes kept finding that boy, whose name, he had learned, was Kurt.

Kurt Hummel, he found out later, when he’d picked up his attendance sheet and found the name. Hummel. It was appropriate; there was a likeness to the porcelain dolls. Something that made him seem…delicate, Blaine supposed was the closest word to describing what he thought about Kurt Hummel. He hadn’t spoken once during the class—but the whole time, his eyes had never left Blaine. And Blaine had felt it like Kurt had been touching his skin.

“Kurt Hummel,” he said under his breath, eyebrows drawn.

“What?” mumbled Will, turning over in bed and blinking blearily at Blaine. “Did you say something, honey?”

Blaine swallowed. He shook his head and looked down at the forgotten book in his lap.

“Nothing,” he said finally, smiling at Will. “Go back to sleep, baby.” Will settled against Blaine’s side and Blaine lifted his hand into Will’s hair, playing with it as he fell back asleep.

The book stayed open in Blaine’s lap for another half hour, but he didn’t manage to finish another page. He was too busy thinking about Kurt’s legs.

* * *

The kids were not so well-behaved the next day. It was easy enough to get them to calm down, with the occasional class clown thrown in. But for the most part, he found the Dalton boys to be a pleasure to teach.

It was again sixth period that turned this around.

Of course, he’d been thinking about it all day. He wondered if Kurt would be as gorgeous as he remembered, or if he’d built him up in his head. But no. He was exactly as attractive as he’d been yesterday, maybe more so, unnervingly enough.

It seemed to him a distinct possibility he’d been so focused on Kurt that he’d inadvertently allowed himself to lose some of the authority in his demeanor, and the class was acting out because of it.

He blinked several times, snapped his gaze away from Kurt (who he could have sworn was smirking), and looked around the room. The boys were talking, paying him no mind whatsoever. Blaine watched, let it go on for another ten seconds, waiting to see if they’d notice him waiting.

Blaine’s other passion in life, besides teaching, was singing. He’d been singing his whole life. And he knew how to project.

So when he said, “HEY!” in a loud, sharp bark that made their ears ring, they shut up so fast you could hear teeth clacking. They stared at him with round eyes, not quite sure what to make of what had just happened. He was such a young teacher, could that have possibly come from him? The boys looked at one another and then back at Blaine, who had an eyebrow raised.

He smiled. “Do I have your attention?”

The class continued to stare. Blaine’s smile grew. He felt entirely satisfied.

Until he looked at Kurt. Whose eyes were just as round as everyone else. Except no one else’s pupils were quite so dilated. Blaine had a semi before he even realized he was turned on.

But he pushed that out of the forefront of his mind, regaining control of his face (and his dick) and forcing those thoughts to the side. Not…away. Just to the side. Just aside until after class, when Kurt took way too long to gather his things up, and just so happened to be zipping his bag closed when the door swung shut on the last person. Blaine’s heart began a valiant attempt at escape.

“Hey, Kurt, what’s up?” he said casually, going to his desk so he’d have something to do, papers to pretend to grade (and so he could hide the erection that was returning with a vengeance.

Kurt’s voice when he said, “Um, Mr. Anderson…?” was downright filthy and Blaine nearly choked on his spit. He took a single deep breath before looking at Kurt and putting on a smile.

“Yeah?”

Kurt bit his lip and leaned against Blaine’s desk, the edge digging into his ass, drawing Blaine’s eyes.

But then Kurt was grinning mischievously and his eyes sparkled with humor and blatant flirtation. Blaine couldn’t speak. Kurt apparently had no such qualms:

“Welcome to Dalton, Mr. Anderson,” he said softly, and he held Blaine’s eyes for another heavy moment before pushing off the desk and sauntering out the door, swinging his ass for Blaine. As soon as the door closed behind him, Blaine’s jaw dropped.

That boy had just blatantly, shamelessly, flirted with him. With his teacher.

And Blaine, for his part, was stiff and throbbing beneath his desk.

* * *

The next few days, sixth period was all Blaine could think about. The end of every class was just one period closer to when Kurt would come waltzing into Blaine’s classroom in his tiny clothes with his endless legs and that teasing, coquettish smile he always wore. He made it just about impossible to teach. Blaine always found his gaze back on Kurt. He had to consciously not look at him or his eyes would drift back, like they were magnetized.

Maybe Kurt was a witch, he thought one night, listening to the sound of the shower down the hall. Or, like, an enchanter. A vixen!

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Will start singing and Blaine chuckled.

Whatever Kurt was, it didn’t matter, because Blaine had a beautiful, amazing boyfriend he wouldn’t give up for the world.

But Kurt sure wasn’t making it easy.

They’d begun their first book, one not often read in high schools; The Stranger, by Albert Camus. Blaine thought the boys were more than capable. Some of them would be taking philosophy classes next year and reading Aristotle’s Metaphysics. They could handle Camus.

The Stranger was a book Blaine had been dying to teach since he’d read it when he was nineteen. And now that the moment was finally here, he was being distracted by a student wearing shorts that barely covered anything. Kurt was bouncing his leg over his knee and watching Blaine with a gleam in his eye that was verging on entirely inappropriate. And he couldn’t even be sure it was deliberate. For all he knew, Kurt did this in every class, taunted every teacher this way. He was surprised no one on the faculty had complained.

On second thought, yes he could. It would take more than a straight man to resist those legs.

Blaine had gotten a rather heated discussion started about Meursault’s neighbor and his diseased dog. The kids were so into it that they were talking without his having to prompt them, going back and forth among themselves as he leaned against his desk and listened with immense satisfaction.

His eyes drifted to Kurt. Kurt was watching him. His head was cocked and he wore a coy expression that made Blaine nervous indeed. No one else in the classroom appeared to notice what was going on (and had he been able to focus on anything but this absurdly attractive boy, he would have been bursting with pride), every last one of them engaged in a debate over the neighbor, why he kept his dog, what the relationship symbolized.

Kurt brought the pen he was holding to his mouth and, without removing his eyes from Blaine’s, ran the end along his lower lip, tugging it down just enough that Blaine could see the tips of his bottom teeth. It was only when he noticed the ache that had begun in his lower belly that he forced himself to look away, face and neck flushed.

He kept his eyes off Kurt the rest of the class. But when the bell rang, he couldn’t usher Kurt out of the room, and for the second time he lagged behind the rest of the students, waiting until the last person had left to approach Blaine’s desk.

Before Blaine could say anything, Kurt began, “Our teacher before you was going to have us do Macbeth next.” Blaine’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback. Was Kurt complaining? But then he continued: “And not that I don’t like Shakespeare, but The Stranger is one of my favorite books.” He adopted that delicious, teasing smile again and Blaine felt his heart rate jump at least twenty beats per minute. Kurt planted his hands on Blaine’s desk and leaned closer, the smell of his soap and shampoo snaking its way inside Blaine’s head and making him dizzy. Kurt’s pretty blue eyes sparkled. “I’m excited to see what we’ll do this year.”

Blaine watched him leave with a nauseating combination of arousal and extreme irritation.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was becoming frustrated. His efforts at gaining his teacher’s attention were working spectacularly; it was getting that teacher to do something that didn’t seem to be as successful. Sure, Kurt had never gone for a teacher before, so there was that to take into consideration. It wasn’t only frowned upon but illegal. But that first day he’d walked into English and seen Mr. Anderson leaning against his desk, Kurt had forgotten about Hunter. Hunter, in fact, held little appeal anymore. He paled in comparison to Kurt’s new teacher, with his curly hair and that smile and those arms. Kurt had spent entire periods staring at them and soaking his panties. Imagining Mr. Anderson holding him down and fucking him, making him take his cock.

The weather still admitted revealing clothing, and Kurt took advantage. He’d worn a skirt to school once before. Last time he hadn’t worn lace panties, though. In Mr. Anderson’s class, he crossed his legs and hiked his skirt up, giving Mr. Anderson a clear shot of his lace-clad ass cheek. It was gratifying to watch him struggle not to look. Or look too long.

They were on to the second part of The Stranger. It really was one of Kurt’s favorite books, and had he not been distracted by his gorgeous teacher, he would have been thrilled to be reading it in school. The way Mr. Anderson talked gave Kurt the impression that for the first time in his life, he may have found somebody who shared his philosophical views. It brought on a level of attraction to his teacher that went beyond physical, and that made him nervous. He didn’t dwell on it, though, much too focused on getting Mr. Anderson’s attention and pushing him to finally do something.

Throughout the class, he kept his skirt hitched up, and every time Mr. Anderson’s eyes drifted over and landed beneath Kurt’s desk, Kurt could feel his pussy dripping. The heat in his belly was almost painful. His mind kept going back to the way Mr. Anderson had grabbed the class’s attention, the authority inherent in it.

As Mr. Anderson led the class in another discussion (which was impressive, because his peers didn’t usually show so much interest in books they read for English class), Kurt let his mind wander. He imagined Mr. Anderson—what had he said his name was? Blaine, that was it—bending him over his desk, teasing his soaking wet cunt with his no-doubt big cock. Would he be rough? Yes, Kurt thought. His teacher would likely be an animal in bed. It was always the polite ones, the ones who dressed nicely and held doors and inevitably charmed you out of your pants and into their beds.

Kurt squirmed in his seat and found that his face was hot. Not out of embarrassment, but arousal. His pussy was aching. He squeezed his thighs together and let out a shaky breath. When he looked up, he saw Mr. Anderson watching him. He looked furious, but Kurt thought he also looked turned on. Kurt, throwing caution to the wind as he was wont to do, bit his lip and lowered his chin, looking at Mr. Anderson through his eyelashes. He let one hand wander over his thigh, dipping his fingers between his legs. He felt the stickiness there, and used the side of his hand to press against his pussy. His mouth fell open just enough that Mr. Anderson would know exactly what was going on. And since Mr. Anderson was the only one who could see what Kurt was doing, he pressed a little bit harder, pushing the material of his panties between his folds. He was able to pinch the fabric and pull it up, rubbing it against his clit. He did this over and over, dragging the cloth of his panties up through his slick pussy lips, creating a constant source of friction on his clit. Mr. Anderson had seen, because he was adamantly looking away and his face was bright red. He’d also gone to lean against his desk, and his hands were folded in front of his crotch.

Oh god, he’s hard, Kurt thought, and had to stifle a whimper. He imagined what it would be like to feel his teacher’s cock sliding into him, splitting him open. And what it would feel like to grip the edges of his desk while Mr. Anderson fucked him.

He was beginning to think he might actually come right there in class when the bell rang. Kurt let go of his panties. The joints in his fingers ached from having been clutching something so tightly for a good ten or fifteen minutes. He had to take a breath, and for a moment worried that when he stood there would be a wet spot on his chair. But when he got up, he saw only a hint of dampness. That was fine. It wasn’t noticeable unless you looked for it, and it would be gone by the time the next period started.

Kurt took his time gathering his things up, and when everyone else had left the classroom, he made for the door with a satisfied little smile on his face (and an ache in his pussy that would make his next class unbearable).

Just before he left, Mr. Anderson, without looking up from the papers on his desk, said, “I’m glad you enjoy my class so much, Kurt.”

Kurt decided it would be more prudent to skip his next class in favor of going out to his car and finishing what he’d started.

* * *

When Kurt had left the classroom, Blaine let out a long breath. His face was hot with arousal and embarrassment. He couldn’t believe what he’d said before Kurt had left. He just hadn’t been able to help himself. Sure, he was pissed off. What Kurt was doing was not just inappropriate, but it was hazardous to his job. But he couldn’t deny being turned on. Kurt’s little display had shown Blaine something he wouldn’t have otherwise known.

Kurt had a cunt. Some time around the middle of the class, he’d slipped his hand between his legs and started rubbing himself. It hadn’t been until he’d started dragging his lacy panties—pink ones—through his pussy, though, that Blaine had been sure. And he’d done a pretty good job of determinedly looking away. It was only when Kurt’s eyes had fluttered shut a few times that he’d allowed himself to stare. He couldn’t see much with Kurt’s legs crossed, but he could just make out the way Kurt had had his fingers wrapped around the material of his panties and was tugging on them enough to slip them between his lips.

Blaine had never seen a boypussy before. They weren’t common. He’d thought about it, but never seriously. And now, he was surprised by how turned on he was. By the aching desire he felt to spread Kurt’s legs open and play with his sweet little cunt, make him all nice and wet, and then fuck him until he came all over Blaine’s cock.

Feeling like a huge pervert, Blaine went over to where Kurt had been sitting and looked at the chair. There were little dots of perspiration—sweat, probably, from his bare legs. And maybe something else, too. If he touched it, would it be sticky? Would it smell like Kurt’s pussy?

Maybe. Probably. But Blaine didn’t touch it, and he certainly didn’t smell it, because he felt horrific enough with his cock as hard as it was.

This couldn’t go on. But what was he supposed to do? Go to the headmaster? Tell him Kurt Hummel was touching himself in his class? He didn’t want to get the kid in trouble. (He absolutely refused to acknowledge the part of his brain that didn’t want to do anything about the situation because he wanted it to happen again.)

He had to sit at his desk the first ten minutes of his next class.

* * *

“Do you like it?”

Blaine blinked and stirred his fork in his pasta, absently stabbing a mushroom.

“I do, yeah.” He stuffed some in his mouth and grinned around it at Will, who raised an eyebrow and curled his lip.

“Blaine, that’s so gross.”

Blaine’s cheeks gained a bit of color. He chewed his food and swallowed before grinning apologetically at his boyfriend.

“Sorry, babe. It’s delicious, it really is.” He impaled another mushroom on his fork and held it up. “You made my favorite.”

Though it seemed to be in spite of himself, Will smiled.

“You’ve seemed sort of tense the last few days,” he said with a shrug. “But you said school’s going well, right?” He looked concerned, and Blaine felt so much relief at the swell of affection this brought on that after dinner he dragged Will into their bedroom and fucked him into the mattress. It was only later on, in the dark silence of the room in the early hours of the morning, that Blaine thought about Kurt again. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately after they’d had sex, but Blaine hadn’t been able to. Over the last twenty minutes he’d been slowly getting hard, thinking about sixth period yesterday. About Kurt rubbing his pussy and dragging his panties over his clit. He wondered if Kurt had come. He wondered how wet he’d been.

He wondered how wet he could make Kurt.

And then he thought about that cute little wet spot that had been on the chair after Kurt had left, and Blaine slid his hand beneath his boxers, gripping the base of his swollen cock and squeezing lightly. He made a choked-off noise and his head tilted back. He scooted back, settling himself against his pillows since obviously this was going to happen, and closed his eyes. He imagined Kurt sitting in that same desk without any panties on under his skirt.

But when he came, he was thinking about getting on his knees and putting his head beneath the desk, between Kurt’s legs.

* * *

He was wearing a fucking skirt again. And today, he was wearing calf-high socks, too.

Blaine felt shitty enough about having gotten himself off last night to the thought of fucking Kurt’s pussy. It so wasn’t fair that he had to endure this. What had he done in his life to do deserve this? Really?

Kurt was wearing a decidedly wicked smirk today, and Blaine was resolute about pretending he didn’t exist. This was made difficult when, halfway through the period, Kurt’s legs fell open just enough that Blaine (weak human that he was) couldn’t help looking, because he had a clear shot at the front of Kurt’s panties, light blue today, and with a little damp spot where his hole was leaking.

He didn’t rub himself off today, but he kept squeezing his thighs together, and every time Blaine would look at him, Kurt would bite his lip. By the end of the class, Blaine was pissed off. He was angry that it was happening, and he was even angrier that he was so fucking turned on by it. That he had a throbbing erection he’d probably have to hide the rest of the day.

He’d thought his comment the day before would have scared Kurt off. He’d acknowledged it, for crying out loud. Wasn’t he embarrassed?

Well, evidently not. And Blaine was beginning to wonder whether that had been a bad idea; only egged Kurt on. He’d have to be more direct, clearly. And with his cock swollen and uncomfortable in his slacks, Blaine didn’t think it would be a problem.

Kurt was a few feet from the door when Blaine said his name, his voice low and stern. Kurt turned, and Blaine saw the flush of arousal on his cheeks and his neck. It was so attractive he nearly backed down on what he was going to do. In the end, though, he knew this was the only way to stop it. And it needed to stop.

He stood up from his desk, wishing his cock wasn’t tenting his pants, but knowing he couldn’t be sitting down. He was the teacher and Kurt was the student. If he was going to put an end to this, he had to hold his authority over Kurt’s head and scare him out of it.

His voice was soft and seductive when he said, “Yes, Mr. Anderson?”

Blaine rested back against his desk, keeping his face unreadable, and motioned to Kurt with a finger. He saw Kurt’s chest rising and falling more quickly and forced himself not to let it get to him. Kurt went to him obediently. Blaine’s cock twitched. He swallowed and further ignored it.

He stayed silent a few moments, letting Kurt stand there without knowing what was going to happen. He watched him squirm where he was, looking up at Blaine every so often and then back down. His fingers fidgeted where they were clasped in front of him. He had an idea that Kurt was not nearly as nervous as he was making himself out to be. It enraged Blaine further. His fists clenched at his sides and he gritted his teeth.

“I’m gonna give you one warning,” he said eventually, his voice deep and intimidating. Kurt looked at him with wide, innocent eyes that pissed Blaine off further and made his libido rage.

“What?” Kurt said softly. Blaine pushed off his desk and stepped forward.

“One warning,” he said again through his teeth. Kurt looked both frightened and horny. His pupils were huge. Blaine couldn’t help wondering how soaking wet his pussy was under that skirt. “If you wanna wear slutty little skirts like that to school, you make sure you sit with your legs closed in my class. Do you understand?”

Kurt, whose breathing was audibly unsteady, nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he breathed.

Blaine held his eyes for another moment before saying softly, “Good. Get to your next class.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next couple of days, Blaine couldn’t get the encounter off his mind. He had a difficult time sleeping, tossing and turning all night in his bed and getting almost no rest at all. It made it difficult to deal with his rowdy students, and it made being in the same room as Kurt even worse. He couldn’t even look at him or he got angry. The number of times he’d made himself come to thoughts of Kurt’s pussy was no laughing matter, and having to stand there and teach a class while Kurt made eyes at him and bared his long legs was painful. He didn’t wear any more skirts, but the short, _short_ shorts were bad enough.

Thursday night he got no sleep at all. Not even an hour. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, trying to fight back the thoughts that had become habitual at night. His mind went in circles, first deciding he’d done the right thing when he’d pulled Kurt aside after class, then changing his mind and worrying it had been crossing a line to have called him _slutty_. Well…not him, he reasoned. His skirts.

Blaine closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, disgusted with himself. He crawled out of bed, careful not to wake his boyfriend, and padded through the apartment into the kitchen, where he made himself a cup of coffee. It was already four in the morning; going to sleep now would be a bad idea. He’d feel even worse having to wake up in two hours. So he sat at the kitchen table and sipped his coffee, giving up and letting himself think about Kurt without trying to fight it off.

The interesting thing was, Kurt was smart. The essays Blaine had thus far assigned showed his talent. He was a thoughtful, abstract thinker, and had he not been masturbating in class, Blaine thought Kurt would have been a favorite student. He would even have loved to talk to him about the essays, pick his brain, hear what his thoughts were on different books and ideas. Knowing he was intelligent only made him more attractive to Blaine, and he resented Kurt for that. For being not only physically but mentally attractive, as well.

In past relationships, Blaine had always made a point not to compare his partners to other people. It was natural to be physically attracted to more than one person, but he never cheated on his boyfriends. Ever. He thought it was a shitty thing to do. As was putting your significant other up against someone else.

But he couldn’t help himself as he sat there drinking his coffee at four in the morning. He thought about how Will had common sense, but he wasn’t someone Blaine could have intellectual conversations with. Without having ever actually _talked_ to Kurt, Blaine still felt sure his student could provide him with better fodder for conversation than his boyfriend. But what of that? Will was a good person. And Blaine was _sure_ Will had never worn skirts and thongs to his classes in high school when he’d had a cute teacher. It was indecent. Disgusting.

And yet, Blaine couldn’t get rid of what seemed to be a perpetual boner ever since that first sixth period he’d had with Kurt.

* * *

He was cranky at school the next day. The boys could tell, and each of his classes had gone by without anyone goofing off. Blaine was a mild-tempered guy, but when he was pissed off, everyone could tell, and no one liked to fuck with him. It had always been that way, and Blaine had never discouraged it. That way people kept their distance when he was in a bad mood. He’d been known to blow his top before; once, in high school, he’d gotten in a fight. He’d been a junior, and he’d had his first boyfriend. He’d kissed him in the hallway and some idiot on the hockey team had guffawed loudly. Blaine had been able to ignore that. What he hadn’t been able to ignore was the word “faggots” coming out of the kid’s mouth. Blaine had punched him in the face so hard he’d hit the lockers behind him and had a bandage on his nose the next couple weeks.

Needless to say, he’d gained some respect, and high school had been a breeze the last year and a half after that. Some people had still sneered, especially when he dated his next boyfriend senior year, whom he’d thought he’d been completely in love with and made grand spectacles asking him to dances and to prom.

But high school was over, and he couldn’t just punch people that made him angry. Especially students. And anyway, he didn’t want to punch Kurt; he wanted to fuck him. Now more than ever, perhaps, his libido fueled by his anger. Where first he’d imagined fucking Kurt slowly, pulling noises and gasps and exquisite faces out of him, now the pictures playing in his mind were more along the lines of pounding his slutty little cunt until he begged Blaine to let him come.

“Alright,” Blaine said, closing the door once the bell hand rung and sixth period had started. Kurt was wearing jean shorts again. It was getting colder, and Blaine had the funny feeling that, had Kurt not been trying his damned hardest to make Blaine’s life as difficult and sexually frustrating as humanly possible, he wouldn’t have worn them. He was little, and he had to be cold.

_Good_ , Blaine thought with a grimace. _Let him freeze. Too bad I can’t turn the air on in here._

But that only made him think about Kurt’s nipples getting hard and showing through his shirt and Blaine really, honestly was beginning to irritate himself.

“So, you should’ve finished the book in the last two days,” he said, looking around at the class and taking in three different kinds of faces: satisfied, uninterested, and entirely uninterested. Well, that was hopeful. “Does anybody have any feelings about how it ended? Were you surprised? Did you agree with what the priest was saying? What do you think Camus was trying to say with the conversation between those two characters?”

Trent, a chubby boy with round, rosy cheeks, raised his hand. Blaine nodded at him.

“I think Camus is implying that Meursault’s future was set in stone.” He opened his book and turned to one of the last pages, placing a finger on one line and squinting before looking back up. “Yes, right here Meursault is thinking about how he’s come to terms with what’s happening to him. He calls his imminent death ‘a dark wind’ that’s been rising toward him. I think Camus is saying that things are planned out—“

“No, no, no, that’s not what he’s saying at _all_.” The whole class snapped their heads around to look at Kurt, who very rarely spoke. He was frowning at Trent, clearly unimpressed with this conclusion. “If you go back two, three sentences—“ and Blaine didn’t miss the fact that Kurt didn’t have his book out, “—Meursault _is_ coming to terms with what’s happened to him, but he doesn’t think anything was ever set in stone. The point is that it _wasn’t_. That he could have done anything differently, but he chose to kill that guy, and that’s that. Camus denied the book having an Existentialist backbone, but I think that wraps it up perfectly.” And now Kurt looked at Blaine, and he was wearing a little smirk. “It is what it is. That’s the point. You do something, and you face the consequences of it.”

Blaine blinked a few times, trying to decide whether it would be taking it way too far to find symbolism in what Kurt had just said. Was that what happened to you when you became an English teacher? he wondered absurdly. Dear god, he’d only been teaching a week and a half.

He snapped himself out of those thoughts and centered back on what Trent was saying in response:

“But Camus _says_ …” He trailed off and found the quote in the book: “’Throughout the whole absurd life I’d lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come…” Now he looked at Kurt with a satisfied smile on his face.

Kurt rolled his eyes and Blaine had to bite his lips so he wouldn’t laugh. Of course, there was no _right_ answer, there never was with books, or art, or poetry. Just interpretations. However, he’d always sided with Kurt’s interpretation.

“Yes,” Kurt said, and now he took his own book out, which, Blaine noticed, was not the copy everyone else had gotten from the school’s book store. It was a tattered old copy with cover art from the very first edition. “But _a few sentences back_ he says, ‘I had lived my life one way and I could just as well have lived it another. I had done this and I hadn’t done that. I hadn’t done this thing but I had done another.’” He closed his book and raised an eyebrow not at Trent, but at Blaine, as though he expected Blaine to disagree. Blaine found his temper coming back so quickly it might never have gone away. God, why did the kid have to be such a _shit_? “He’s _saying_ we live by our choices. We’re going to do what we’re going to do, and once we’ve done it, it’s over. You could actually summarize the book with the euphemism ‘No use crying over spilled milk.’”

Blaine was taken aback. He’d never heard that before, but it was so…on point. It made him angrier at Kurt. He couldn’t have been gorgeous but _dumb_? Or at least…not _so_ smart. It was infuriatingly attractive. And the sparkle in Kurt’s eyes, that challenging, teasing gleam that was always there when he looked at Blaine, settled like an exclamation point on top of Blaine’s irritation. He needed a drink.

Kurt’s and Trent’s arguments had sparked a conversation that took them through the rest of the period, and Blaine was reluctantly pleased with the certainty that at least half of the kids who hadn’t finished the book would go home and at least skim through it tonight.

That didn’t lessen his annoyance with Kurt. Especially not when he’d crossed his legs and settled back in his chair enough that Blaine could see up his shorts—and what he saw was that Kurt wasn’t wearing panties beneath them. And that was as far as Blaine felt he could let it go without exploding. Will didn’t even cross his mind when he made his decision.

When class had ended and the students were filing out, Blaine told Kurt to hang back. Kurt looked much too excited by this, and Blaine, with his utter lack of sleep, itchy eyes, and short fuse, had to restrain himself from yelling.

Seventh was another free period for him, and Blaine usually used it to grade and to prepare for eighth period, which was a sophomore class and reading a different book.

Today, however, Blaine did not intend to use the period for either purpose. The way Kurt sauntered over to him, like he _knew_ what he was doing to Blaine—and he did, he had to know—was enough to make Blaine feel like Kurt had taken a pair of scissors and finally snapped a thread that had been pulling tighter and tighter every day since he’d started at Dalton.

Blaine went and closed the door to the classroom. When he looked at Kurt, that sparkle was in his eyes again. He looked like someone who’d been waiting for something a long time, and was finally about to get it.

And oh boy, was he going to get it.

“Go over to my desk,” he told Kurt, his voice low and rough and begging no arguments. Kurt’s face flushed prettily and he nodded, doing as Blaine had said. Blaine’s cock had been hard since he’d noticed Kurt’s lack of underwear, but now it was beginning to strain against his zipper, like it knew it was finally going to get what it wanted. Blaine felt an irrational burst of annoyance at his own dick, as though it had betrayed him.

He watched Kurt for a few moments, taking in the way he shuffled his feet and played with his fingers. And he had no idea whether he was actually nervous, or if it was just an act. He wouldn’t have put it past him. Regardless, it was working, and the lust in Blaine’s blood roared. He doubted very much whether Kurt was innocent, but the act still managed to be alluring.

He stepped in front of Kurt, getting close enough that when Kurt automatically tried backing away, his ass connected with Blaine’s desk. Blaine put his hands on the desk’s surface, framing Kurt’s waist and leaning in toward his ear. He could smell his shampoo and some sort of cologne that made his cock twitch in interest.

“You’ve gone to desperate lengths to get my attention,” he whispered, and he was satisfied to feel Kurt’s body shiver beneath him. “Now you’ve got it.” His hands relocated to Kurt’s hips, and he wasn’t gentle. He squeezed, exerting his authority, the power he held over Kurt. He was older, he was stronger, he was more experienced, no matter what kinds of things Kurt had done, and he was his teacher.

“What’re you gonna do?” Kurt breathed. Blaine clenched his teeth, both turned on and further enraged by the question.

“Get on my desk.”

He heard Kurt swallow before he looked up into Blaine’s eyes, his own blue ones round and for all the world completely innocent. Blaine growled low in his throat and Kurt seemed to take this as a hint to get a move on. He hopped up onto the desk and his legs fell open. Blaine laughed bitingly.

“God, you’re gagging for it,” he said softly, putting his hands on Kurt’s thighs and spreading them wider. Kurt whined, but Blaine didn’t look up, didn’t let Kurt know how much it affected him. His hands slid up Kurt’s legs, over the smooth, bare skin, until he reached the legs of his tiny shorts. There was a small gap between the crease of his thigh and the fabric, and Blaine’s head throbbed with the knowledge that just past the hemline, Kurt’s pussy was waiting, soaked and needy and all for him. He circled his thumb along the inside of Kurt’s thighs, letting the tips drag just beneath his shorts, feeling the humid stickiness that had gathered there. Kurt made a soft, desperate noise that made Blaine squeeze around his legs. As he continued to tease, he leaned back into Kurt’s ear: “Is that slutty little pussy of yours all wet?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, his voice breathy.

Blaine pushed one of his thumbs further beneath Kurt’s shorts, until he could feel the smooth, shaven mound of his cunt. The slit was soaking wet, and when he felt further down, it became apparent that his juices had leaked out from between his folds. Kurt took in a shuddering breath and whimpered.

“Is this what you wanted?” Blaine pressed, pushing his thumb between Kurt’s labia and brushing over a hard little button of flesh he knew had to be Kurt’s clit. Kurt’s whimper turned into a whine and his hips tried to buck forward unsuccessfully. “Yeah? You wanted to get your pussy rubbed, you little slut?”

Kurt _mewled_ , his hands coming up to hesitantly grip Blaine’s shoulders. He looked at him with eyes that belied his otherwise promiscuous demeanor. Blaine’s arousal throbbed in his veins, making his heart race, his head dizzy. He could feel his pulse in his temples. Kurt was so wet, so warm. And Blaine had never touched a pussy before.

“M-Mr. Anderson,” he stuttered, body jerking when Blaine rubbed over his clit again, harder now. Blaine let out a sharp breath and brought his face closer to Kurt’s neck.

“Tell me,” he said, voice dangerously low. Kurt’s grip tightened on his shoulders. He felt his nails digging in through the fabric. “You’ve been begging for it all week. Just _say it_.” He brought his lips to the skin where Kurt’s neck met his shoulder, dragging them over it lightly. Kurt shivered again. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

This made Kurt whimper.

“ _Please_ , Mr. Anderson…”

Blaine’s cock throbbed and ached, trapped inside his pants. He stifled a groan.

“Please _what_ , Kurt?”

Kurt let out a small, desperate sob. His hips twitched forward, trying to make Blaine touch his clit again. But Blaine moved his thumb, leaving his pussy lips parted enough that the swollen little nub would be exposed to the air.

“Fuck me,” Kurt whispered. Blaine’s grip on Kurt’s thighs tightened again. He squeezed hard—pissed off, turned on, and utterly devoid of rational or coherent thought at this point. He sucked on the skin of Kurt’s neck as he unzipped and unbuttoned his little jean shorts and slipped them down over his long legs, letting them drop to the floor. He felt Kurt shaking very lightly, but whether it was from arousal, anticipation, nerves, or a combination of all three, he didn’t know.

With his legs spread open, Blaine had excellent access, and he moved his hands up Kurt’s thighs, spreading him open wide with his thumbs. Kurt sucked his lip into his mouth and was looking at Blaine through lidded eyes. Blaine could see his tight little hole clenching around nothing.  
  
"Look at this,” he said softly. He stared greedily at Kurt’s pussy, taking in his swollen lips and the hard bump of his clit. He was leaking fluid and it was beginning to create a little wet spot on Blaine’s desk. Blaine wondered vaguely how big he could make it. He slipped a thumb between Kurt’s pussy lips, letting it dip into his hole enough to tease. Kurt drew in a sharp breath. Blaine continued to stroke his pussy as he kissed beneath Kurt’s ear. “Is this why you wore those slutty skirts?” Blaine dragged the pad of his thumb through Kurt’s juices and spread them over his clit, stimulating it briefly. “You needed me to take care of this dripping cunt of yours?”

“P-please, _yes_ …”

Without any warning, Blaine slid a finger deep into Kurt’s pussy, slowly but without stopping. Kurt let out a long moan, head tilting back, clenching around the digit. Blaine took one look at the skin of Kurt’s sweaty neck and attached his lips, sucking hungrily. His hand sped up without much conscious thought, both his libido and anger taking over. This kid had been taunting him for more than a week; now he’d pushed Blaine past his limit, and he was going to get what he’d asked for.

“You love this, don’t you?” Blaine panted, sweat beading at his temples and on his neck from the exertion of fucking Kurt’s pussy with his fingers. When he looked down, he was entranced by the sight of the swollen pink skin and the little bundle of nerves at the peak. He was soaking wet, too, and Blaine had never thought about pussies before, but he wasn’t _quite_ sure how he’d lived without this. The tight heat was astounding, and his cock stiffened until it was extraordinarily uncomfortable to keep it in his pants, as it were. “Fuck, you’re so hungry for it. Such a little slut.” He slipped another finger into Kurt and started pounding him with them. “You’ll let anyone spread these pretty legs of yours, won’t you?” he taunted. In fact, he was a little surprised by the small hisses of pain that Kurt kept issuing, but they reduced in number after a fair amount of minutes, so he forgot about it. “That’s right. C’mon, you want it? Fuck yourself, Kurt. Fuck that slutty cunt of yours on my fingers, make yourself come.”

Kurt squirmed on Blaine’s desk, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he rocked down onto his fingers, whimpering and panting and completely falling apart. Blaine, for his part, couldn’t tear his eyes away. He did for only a moment, and that was so he could find Kurt’s clit with his other hand, rubbing over it in fast circles until Kurt was coming. His hips stuttered and his body shuddered and fluid rushed out around Blaine’s fingers, creating a puddle on the desk beneath Kurt’s ass. Blaine stared, fingers limp inside Kurt’s cunt, oblivious to the way Kurt kept flexing around them with aftershocks.

“Mr. Anderson,” he said, his voice soft and a little scratchy. Blaine’s eyes lifted to Kurt’s face.

“Lie down,” Blaine said. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but Blaine cut him off: “ _Lie down_ ,” he said again, more sharply. Kurt swallowed loudly before nodding and doing as he’d been told. Blaine stripped off his own clothes and divested Kurt of his shirt. He ran his hands reverently down Kurt’s chest, stopping when he reached his thighs. He lifted them, opening Kurt up obscenely. His pussy lips parted so Blaine could see his hole, a little loose from the fucking it had taken by Blaine’s fingers. But still tight. _So_ tight. Blaine’s cock would stretch Kurt infinitely more than his fingers had.

He gripped the base of his cock and stroked over himself lazily, staring at Kurt’s pussy, enjoying the way it clenched under his heavy gaze.

“This what you want?” he breathed, and he lightly tapped Kurt’s pussy with his fat cock, bumping his clit rudely with the swollen head. Kurt moaned and writhed beneath him, but Blaine didn’t let up. He would get his revenge for what Kurt had done to him, even if it meant getting dangerously close to eighth period. “Want me to stuff that needy cunt with my cock?”

Kurt rolled his hips. Blaine slapped his pussy again, a little bit harder, and Kurt keened.

“ _Yes!_ ”

Blaine grinned wickedly and passed his cockhead over Kurt’s hole. God, he was tight.

“Gonna have to do better than that, Kurt,” he whispered. He pushed the tip of his dick just barely inside and Kurt’s pussy tried to swallow him in, but he slipped back out. Kurt sobbed.

“ _Please_ , Mr. Anderson,” he begged, voice breathy and ruined.

Blaine pushed the tip in again, pulling another long groan out of Kurt’s pretty throat. He leaned into Kurt’s ear, leaving the fat head of his cock just inside Kurt’s hole. “You want my cock?”

Kurt whined. “ _Yes_.”

“How bad do you want it?”

Kurt sobbed again. His fingers dug into Blaine’s biceps.

“ _Need_ it…”

Blaine cooed and kissed the underside of Kurt’s jaw. He pushed in steadily, feeling Kurt’s tight walls grip his cock, adding resistance. It was heaven. He was nice and tight, wet and so _hot_. Blaine groaned and pulled back out almost immediately, giving Kurt no time to relax or adjust. It didn’t even cross his mind that it could have been Kurt’s first time.

“’s that feel good?” Blaine said, breathing heavily, building a rhythm as he fucked deep into Kurt’s clenching pussy. Kurt’s head had tilted back against the desk and his body was arched up into Blaine, mouth fallen open in silent ecstasy. It was so fucking hot Blaine had to slow down a moment, catch his breath and pull himself back from the edge. They still had twenty minutes. He wasn’t about to end this yet. “You like getting fucked by a nice big cock?”

He bent Kurt’s legs back farther, until they rested against his chest, and picked up the pace again. He’d have bruises from where his hips were slamming into the desk, but he couldn’t even feel that now. All he could feel was the pressure of Kurt’s cunt around his cock, squeezing and pulling him back in every time he pulled out.

“Come on my cock,” he said into Kurt’s neck, mouthing the skin there, breathing too heavily to do anything else. “C’mon, this is what you wanted, right, Kurt? You wanted to get your greedy pussy fucked? Come again for me.”

Blaine got his hand over Kurt’s mouth just in time to muffle his shout of release. He started pulsing around Blaine’s dick, and it went on for about six or seven seconds before his body shuddered and Blaine felt his cock being pushed out. Fluid squirted out around him, soaking both their bellies. Blaine’s jaw fell open. Kurt’s chest heaved, eyes closed, limp on Blaine’s desk. It took Blaine about twenty seconds to fully register what had just happened before he started slamming into Kurt again, gripping his thighs and fucking his overworked pussy for another solid two or three minutes before he was transferring his hands to Kurt’s waist and holding him in place as he ground into him, coming so hard his vision went white. Kurt was rubbing frantically at his clit, and Blaine felt him come again weakly, his body jerking and shuddering with pleasure.

They stayed like that for several minutes, both catching their breath. Blaine eventually slipped out, pulling a little moan from Kurt. Blaine grabbed his boxers and put those on, falling into his desk chair and running a hand through his sweaty hair. Kurt sat up shakily. That was when Blaine noticed the blood.

His heart started pounding.

“Kurt,” he said, voice guarded, eyes glued to the small spots of red mixed into the puddle of pussy juice he’d left on Blaine’s desk. “ _Kurt_ , what _is_ that?”

Kurt, looking somewhat lost and dazed, glanced around before seeing where Blaine was looking and dropping his gaze between his legs. When he saw the blood, his cheeks filled with color. Blaine’s fists clenched on his thighs.

“Kurt…” he said dangerously. Kurt seemed to feel the gravity of the situation because he carefully got off Blaine’s desk, wincing a bit when his feet touched the ground. Blaine could have screamed. But there was no way. There was no _way_ …

“Mr. Anderson—” Kurt began, but Blaine, in his fury, interrupted.

“Tell me you weren’t a virgin,” he bit out. All the answer he needed was Kurt’s silence and the deepening color of his face. “ _Kurt—!”_

“It’s okay,” Kurt cut in, sounding rushed and nervous. Blaine saw red. “I swear, it’s okay, I wanted—”

“You’re eighteen years old!” Blaine said loudly, eyes flashing. Kurt looked frightened, and this only served to further Blaine’s anger. “You don’t know what the hell you want!”

“I…I’m seventeen, actually…” He trailed off when Blaine’s eyes widened.

Seventeen? So he hadn’t just taken his student’s virginity. He’d taken his _seventeen-year-old_ student’s virginity. Like the maraschino cherry on top of a five-hundred-calorie sundae.

“Go,” Blaine said suddenly, pointing at the door. “Get dressed and go.”

Kurt looked truly scared now. Blaine’s guilt was so huge it nearly choked him.

“Mr. Anderson—”

“Get out of here, Kurt!” he snapped. “Now!”

Kurt scrambled to gather his clothes, slipping his shorts back on over his wrecked pussy, then his shirt. He grabbed his messenger bag, and just before he left turned to look at Blaine like he was going to say something. Blaine gave him a hard look that told him to think again, and then he was gone.

Blaine dropped his face into his hands. He’d just fucked up _so badly_.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite having had the best sex of his life, Blaine was _not_ in a good mood when he got home. He’d stayed at school until six, the same essay sitting in front of him the whole two and a half hours. His mind was too occupied contemplating what the fuck had just happened to devote much time to grading. Besides, he was in such a bad way he would have given away F’s like he was Oprah. _Take an F! F’s for everyone!_

Jesus Christ, he’d taken his virginity. He’d _taken Kurt’s fucking virginity_. And the kid wasn’t even eighteen. With his luck, Kurt wouldn’t be _turning_ eighteen, either, for many months. Not that it mattered. As far as the legal system was concerned, Kurt could have been eighteen tomorrow and he still would have committed statutory rape.

But he didn’t think Kurt was going to say anything. No one had to find out. And it was Friday, so Blaine had the weekend to cool down. To try and forget it had happened. He’d just keep his distance from Kurt the remainder of the year. He’d be graduating in May, anyway. Then he’d be gone, and Blaine could really get into this teaching job. In the mean time, only as much contact as was required. And maybe Kurt would quit it now that he’d gotten what he wanted and Blaine had completely lost his mind at him.

Even this resolution could only loosen the knot in Blaine’s stomach so much, though. The fact remained that he’d just cheated on his boyfriend of three years with his seventeen-year-old student who’d been taunting him in class for a week with skirts and lacy underwear. God, this was so fucked up. And it wasn’t fair, but Blaine couldn’t help taking it out on Will. He was the only person around, and Blaine’s guilt hid beneath the convenient cover of anger. When he found Will cooking again, he rolled his eyes. He couldn’t remember why he’d ever found it cute. Now they’d only have more to clean up before calling food in. And if he’d just quit the bullshit, the takeout could have already been here waiting for Blaine when he got home.

“Hi, honey!” Will said brightly when Blaine walked into the kitchen. Blaine dropped into a seat at the table and pushed a hand through his hair, looking irritatedly at Will. Will didn’t seem to notice. He continued, “I’m making pasta. Figured I couldn’t screw that up.”

Blaine just barely managed to hold back a retort.

Will stirred the pasta and then went to Blaine, settling in his lap and winding an arm around his shoulders.

“Why were you at school so late?” he asked, nosing along Blaine’s jaw. There was more stubble than usual, since he hadn’t been sleeping well, and had gotten a little lazy about keeping his beard trimmed. Will had always liked it, though.

It was a legitimate question, obviously, but Blaine’s guilty conscience didn’t like it one bit.

“I had stuff to do,” he snapped, and lifted Will off his lap and onto the floor so he could stand up. Will looked at him with drawn eyebrows.

“Oh…kay,” he said slowly. But the frown turned into a seductive little smile that normally would have made Blaine pounce, regardless of what they were doing. He sidled over to Blaine and put his hands on his chest, leaning in toward his ear. “What do you say we skip dinner and I can help you…relax?”

Blaine shook him off. His heart had climbed into his throat and seemed to have made itself comfortable there. He couldn’t get Kurt’s face out of his mind.

“I’m really hungry, Will,” Blaine said shortly. “I had a long day.”

Will’s hands dropped to his sides and he frowned. His hip jutted out and one hand landed there; it was the stance he always adopted when he was about to get sassy with Blaine. And Blaine felt like an asshole because he _did_ have something to hide, a reason he was being so cold, but he mollified himself by coming up with the argument that, had he really just had a long day, he wouldn’t have wanted Will to be acting this way _anyway_. He’d have just wanted to eat and go to bed.

It just happened to be that Blaine had a reason to feel guilty this time.

“What is _wrong_ with you? Did something happen today?” He paused in order for Blaine to answer, but something else seemed to cross his mind. “You know, you’ve been acting weird since you _started_ at Dalton. You haven’t been yourself.” All at once the irritation drained from his face and he looked worried again. “Is everything okay, Blaine? Seriously. Is it not…are you not enjoying it like you thought you would?”

Blaine groaned in frustration. He pressed his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, Will, can you just leave me alone for a minute? For chrissake, I’m just a little stressed. Stop freaking the fuck out.”

Will’s nostrils flared and his eyes became slitted.

“Whatever, Blaine. Fine. Have a tantrum. See if I care.” He rolled his eyes and went back to the stove, where he shut off the flame and stopped the boiling water with most of the pasta still sticking out of the pan. “You want something to eat, make it yourself.” He threw his hands up in the air and stalked out of the kitchen. A few moments later Blaine heard their bedroom door slam. His teeth clenched. He got up and went into the living room, where he was so overcome with rage over his situation that he punched the wall. They lived in an old apartment and the walls were plaster. He did more damage to his hand than to the wall. His knuckles were bleeding, but at least a few cracks had appeared and some of the paint had chipped off. He shook his hand out and flexed his fingers, making sure nothing was broken (because now that hurt on top of his head), and finally went to the couch, where he threw a few cushions onto the floor to make more room. He’d be sleeping there tonight. There was no chance in hell Will would open that door until morning.

* * *

There was something to be said about selective hearing.

The first five hours of the day on Monday, Blaine heard Kurt’s name three times. Had he not noticed before? Was he only noticing _now_ because of what had happened Friday? Or had his subconscious blocked those things out before?

The only plus side was that he didn’t hear his own name in conjunction with Kurt’s (yet, his mind supplied helpfully).

The things he _was_ hearing, though, were mystifying. He’d definitely seen blood on his desk after he’d fucked Kurt. And Kurt had _admitted_ he was a virgin… _had_ been a virgin. So why did the general consensus seem to be that Kurt was a huge slut? It fit with everything Blaine had thought before he’d actually gone and had sex with his student. Before he’d seen for himself that Kurt had never been penetrated before.

He’d had the weekend to cool off a little bit. He’d made up with Will, giving him the excuse that he was just getting used to the workload of being a real teacher. And with the actual incident a few days behind him, he was able to look at it without the clouded judgment of the anger.

He’d obviously fucked up big time, but having shooed Kurt away afterward like that? _That_ had been the biggest mistake. They were each at fault (him more so, probably; as he’d reminded Kurt several times the other day, _he_ was the teacher. That left _him_ with more responsibility), and Blaine had kicked Kurt out of his classroom as though the boy had forced him to do it. As if he’d _lied_ about his virginity, when Blaine hadn’t even inquired. Just assumed.

_Like everyone else in the school_ , he thought, eyebrows drawing together as his stomach knotted up. _I assumed he was a slut just like everyone else. And I was wrong_.

Well, not wrong, maybe. If everyone seemed to think Kurt was a slut, he had to be getting up to _something_. But he hadn’t been having sex. That was certain.

Blaine didn’t know what to make of it. Kurt was an anomaly. And he felt a massive headache coming on.

* * *

Kurt spent the weekend at home, brooding. Ignoring his dad’s questions.

Rachel came over Sunday afternoon.

He and Rachel had met in sixth grade, and they’d been inseparable throughout middle school. It had been tough on both of them to go to different high schools, but they still saw each other two or three times a week, even now. Rachel was his best friend.

They sat in his room, both flipping through magazines. Kurt had _Vogue_ ; Rachel had _Seventeen_.

“I just think it’s really sad what happened to Justin Bieber,” Rachel said, shaking her head at yet another picture of him making a bored face beside a picture of Selena Gomez looking gaunt.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said. He heard the ruffling that meant Rachel had put her magazine down. He braced himself.

“I thought you hated him,” she said accusingly. When he looked up, her eyes were slitted.

“I do. So does, like, ninety percent of the world these days.”

“Well, you _usually_ put up more of a fight when I try to defend him.”

Kurt clenched his teeth. Leave it to Rachel to make a big deal out of nothing at all. He was beginning to regret hanging out with her today. Trying to hide the turmoil going on inside his mind was just about killing him.

“Maybe I’ve just stopped caring,” he said, rolling his eyes. “There’s only so many obnoxious things he can do before it gets old, you know.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and a sudden thought came to him: _This isn’t about Justin Bieber._

“Alright,” Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spill the beans. What’s got you so moody, huh?”

Kurt blinked several times. He hadn’t expected that. He’d thought he’d been doing a spectacular job at hiding his bad mood.

“What are you talking about?”

Rachel sighed so dramatically Kurt thought about smacking her.

“ _Kurt_. I have known you since we were eleven years old, and I know when something’s bothering you.” Her face fell into one of gentle concern. She could be a drama queen like no one else, and sometimes she lost sight of what was important to her when her enormous aspirations came into play, but she was a hell of a friend, and she would always come back around. Kurt’s shoulders slumped and for the first time since Mr. Anderson had kicked him out of the classroom, Kurt let himself feel his emotions. He was mostly super bummed out, because the sex had been everything he’d imagined and more (god, the way he teacher _talked_ to him). But he was embarrassed, too. He hadn’t realized Mr. Anderson thought he was eighteen. In fact, Kurt hadn’t even really taken that into consideration. The repercussions. He’d just been so focused on getting his teacher’s cock.

“What is it?” Rachel pressed again.

Kurt licked his lips, which were suddenly dry, and then laughed lightly.

“God, Rachel, you’re not going to believe me when I tell you what happened on Friday.”

* * *

He told her almost everything. She’d known about Hunter, and Kurt explained how he’d completely lost interest the day Mr. Anderson had come to the school. He told her he’d been flirting with him, but not how. He told her about the sex, and about Mr. Anderson flipping out afterward. She’d winced when he explained what had been said and looked angry.

“He said that to you?”

Kurt nodded and shrugged.

“I mean, I guess I didn’t really think things through.”

Rachel didn’t appear to agree with this. She made a face. “Well, no, obviously not. But, Kurt. I mean.” She shook her head and laughed incredulously. “This is all _kinds_ of screwed up. I know you know that. But he’s your _teacher_. So aside from the obvious, which is that _he_ has the most responsibility, he should _never_ have kicked you out like that.”

Again, Kurt shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. His cheeks were on fire and he was more confused than ever. Rachel sighed long-sufferingly and gave him a motherly look.

“Well. What’s done is done, right? No use crying over spilled milk.”

Kurt’s mouth twitched with a smile.

“Right,” he said. “And at least I’ve been distracted from Hunter, right?”

Rachel grinned. “I haven’t been hearing good things about him in the show choir world,” she told him. “Talented, yes. But a real tool.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and waved the comment off. “Oh, _everyone_ at Dalton is a tool, Rachel. If you could hear the things people say about me.” He fell back on the bed and Rachel followed. “It’s funny, you know, ‘cause they all think they’re the only one I didn’t let actually _fuck_ me.” Rachel made a face. She liked to vocally disapprove of Kurt’s behavior. “So I get this reputation I didn’t even earn. But, hey. It gets me laid.” Rachel made another face.  
  
She gave him a dull look before saying, “You don’t think we’re done talking about this teacher of yours, do you?”

He laughed.

“Well, now that I’ve reprimanded you,” she continued, “I have a few questions.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“What does he look like?”

“Rachel!”

“What?” she said with a coy smile. “I’m curious! It’s not every day your best friend has steamy illicit sex in a classroom with his _teacher_.”

Kurt’s face turned red in reaction to Rachel’s description of the events.

“Well, he’s gorgeous, of course.” Kurt sighed dreamily and came up with a picture in his mind of Mr. Anderson’s face. “He’s got this amazing curly hair, and this smile, and, _ugh_ , Rachel, his _arms_. God, they look like they were sculpted.” He swallowed hard, remembering being held down by those arms and fucked within an inch of his life. His pussy throbbed. He was still sore, though it was beginning to fade finally. He kind of liked it, if he was being honest. Every time he moved, and especially when he sat, it was like a physical reminder of having been fucked by Mr. Anderson Friday. “And he’s…well…” Kurt bit his lip and grinned wickedly at Rachel, who blushed when she realized what Kurt was about to say. “Let’s just say he’s packing.”

“Kurt!”

“Well, he is!”

She gave him a disapproving look that was ruined by a smile she couldn’t hold in.

“I can’t believe you had sex with your teacher.”

“I know, right?”

Rachel shook her head, but the smile was still there. “He wore a condom though, right?”

Kurt again waved her comment off. “I can’t get pregnant. It was too spur-of-the-moment, anyway.”

“Kurt,” Rachel said, eyebrows drawing together. “First of all, I thought you said you didn’t know for sure if you could get pregnant. Just a few months ago you told me it wasn’t conclusive. You get your period.” She said this part very deliberately, and Kurt had to admit, she had a point. But the doctors had _said_ it was so unlikely… Plenty of men with boypussies and periods never got pregnant. “And _second_ , just because you can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be using condoms. You have no idea who his last sex partner was!”

Kurt blushed. “God, you don’t have to be so graphic about it. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Just…you should be using condoms, okay? Don’t get into the habit. You don’t want to end up with an STD, and you don’t want to find out the hard way that you _can_ get pregnant.”

“I’m _fine_ , Rachel.”

* * *

Monday was trying. He was nervous for sixth period, but determined not to show it. Still, some of the comments thrown his way, some of the gossip, got to him more than usual. He’d been feeling vulnerable (and understandably so, he didn’t mind saying) ever since Mr. Anderson had told him to get dressed and leave. That walk of shame from the classroom to his car had been awful.

Kurt didn’t own clothes that didn’t show off his body, but he decided to be a little bit more conservative and at least wear regular jeans today.

The first five periods of the day came and went, and too soon Kurt found himself walking into Mr. Anderson’s classroom and taking a seat. Most of the class was already there and Mr. Anderson was sitting at his desk, finishing something up from the last class. Kurt blushed fiercely and had to look away` from that particular piece of furniture which he’d come all over just a few days ago.

To his great relief, Mr. Anderson played it off very well. He acted totally normal, and his eyes kept passing right over Kurt, sparing him any awkward eye contact. Really, the worst part for Kurt was finding that he was still enormously attracted to his teacher. And now that he knew the way Mr. Anderson looked when he was naked and sweaty and fucking someone raw, whispering filthy things and using those muscles to hold that person down, god, Kurt couldn’t _un_ see it. He didn’t want to. And as ridiculous as it was, he just couldn’t help fantasizing about fucking his teacher again. It was a good thing he was wearing jeans, because he soaked his panties again throughout the class.

He kept his eyes down, though, and wore a small pout.

Kurt still took longer than most of the others to pack his stuff up when the bell rang, but he went a little more quickly than he’d _been_ going. He didn’t know what he was waiting for until Mr. Anderson told him to stay a few minutes. His pulse raced.

When the door shut behind the last person, Mr. Anderson finally looked up. Kurt hugged the textbook he was holding against his chest, unsure of what to expect. This was exactly what he’d wanted, but now that it was here, he didn’t know what to expect. After all, he hadn’t exactly been prepared for the animal he’d unleashed in his teacher on Friday. Not that he was complaining, but the principle remained. Anything could happen with this guy

“Come here,” Mr. Anderson said, his voice low but gentle. As Kurt went to him, he stood up. Kurt looked into his warm brown eyes and felt his stomach turn pleasantly. “Look,” he said, “there’s a lot I should say, but first I should apologize.” Kurt opened his mouth to protest instinctively but Mr. Anderson went on, “No, it was really shitty of me to have kicked you out of here.” He moved a little bit closer to Kurt and reached out, swiping a thumb over his cheek. “I wanted that just as much as you did, trust me. What I don’t understand, Kurt, is why you would give up the experience of your first time.”

Kurt bit his lip and shrugged. “I didn’t…give it up,” he said softly, and he saw Mr. Anderson’s eyes blaze. His pussy throbbed again. “I decided I wanted it to be you.”

His teacher searched his eyes, coming closer still. “But why?” he whispered.

Kurt smiled coyly. “You turn me on.”

Mr. Anderson shook his head, looking bewildered. His hand rose to Kurt’s neck, and Kurt, heart beating out a tattoo against his ribcage, let his teacher pull him slowly— _agonizingly—_ in and brush their lips together. Kurt let out a shaky breath and felt Mr. Anderson smile.

Their lips brushed again, with more pressure this time, and Kurt breathed, “Mr. Anderson…”

His teacher hushed him, kissing him again, again, and finally trailing his lips down Kurt’s jaw, onto his neck. “I’ve got you, baby.” Kurt’s knees nearly buckled at the endearment. He wrapped his arms around Mr. Anderson’s shoulders and was spun around and placed on his desk. “How’s that pussy doing?”

Kurt groaned and rolled his hips forward, keening when he felt Mr. Anderson’s big, warm hand cup him through his jeans.

“M-Mr. Anderson,” he stuttered, crying out softly when he felt his teacher press up with his fingers against his hole. It was so sore, but it felt so good.

“Blaine,” Mr. Anderson said against Kurt’s neck. “Call me Blaine, Kurt.”

A pulse of heat made Kurt’s whole body throb. “ _Blaine_ ,” he whined, rocking against his hand. “Oh, that… _oh_ …”

“Yeah, that feel good?” Blaine whispered, speeding his fingers up. “Is your cunt still sore, baby?”

“Mhm,” was all Kurt could manage, nails digging into Blaine’s shoulders. And then Blaine stopped suddenly and Kurt could have screamed. Blaine leaned in to kiss him again.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing Kurt’s thighs before moving to undo his jeans and pulling them down and off his legs. His fingers found Kurt’s pussy again and he slipped them beneath Kurt’s panties, rubbing gently between his lips and over his clit. Kurt whimpered, rocked his hips. Blaine kept kissing his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his mouth. His fingers dipped into Kurt’s hole but not far. And that was good, because Kurt found that it still hurt way too much. Blaine had _really_ fucked him hard, not having known it had been his first time. He was probably feeling bad, Kurt thought, and that made him grin. “C’mere,” Blaine said, guiding Kurt to the center of the desk. Blaine sat in his chair and spread Kurt’s legs open. Kurt knew where this was going and his head fell back, his pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Are you…?” he breathed. Blaine grinned with all his teeth. He hooked his thumbs into Kurt’s panties and dragged them down slowly. He ran his fingers over Kurt’s thighs, creating goose bumps, and then started kissing. He kissed up and down his leg, getting so close, but not _there_. He even spent a good two or three minutes kissing the crease of Kurt’s thigh. But _finally_ he licked up one of Kurt’s lips, then the other, and then dipped his tongue inside and licked all the way up to his clit, where he flicked his tongue and Kurt cried out. Blaine chuckled and looked up through absurdly long eyelashes.

“You’ve gotta be quiet,” he told Kurt softly, and before Kurt could answer, he’d dived in. He opened Kurt up until he was exposed to the air, and Kurt’s clit throbbed and pulsed. Blaine placed a gentle kiss there and it made Kurt sob and clench and try to close his legs around Blaine’s head. But Blaine held them in place, and that itself was ridiculously hot. He used the tip of his tongue to make idle patters and sucked on his lips, and Kurt watched this all with wide eyes. Blaine’s face was soaking wet with his juices. He stabbed his tongue into Kurt’s hole a few times, but he focused mostly on the rest. It was honestly like he was kissing Kurt’s pussy, and Kurt couldn’t say why, but it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He sank his hands into Blaine’s hair, and Blaine seemed to take this as Kurt’s cue that he was getting close. And he was. God, he’d never been so close so quickly before.

Blaine wrapped his lips around Kurt’s clit, and when he started sucking hard, Kurt saw stars. He ground against Blaine’s mouth, riding his face and tugging on his hair as his pussy pulsed with his orgasm, again and again and again, it seemed never to stop. He could feel the fluid leaking out of him, all over Blaine’s face, down his chin. And Blaine just kept sucking him through it until Kurt had nothing left in him.

He came up from Kurt’s pussy when Kurt had stopped pulsing and clenching, and he kissed him. Kurt groaned into Blaine’s mouth, tasting himself on his tongue. Blaine wrapped a hand around Kurt’s head and held him steady as he pushed his tongue in and out of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt tried to catch his breath, but it seemed impossible. Blaine was everywhere, rubbing over his sore pussy, fucking into his mouth with his tongue, stealing his breath. Kurt felt entirely consumed by him, and he never wanted that to go away.

“Did that feel good, baby?” Blaine said against Kurt’s lips.

“Yes,” he sighed.

Blaine cooed and kissed him again, leaving him panting. “Yeah? You like when I touch that slutty pussy of yours?”

Kurt whimpered. “ _Yes_.”

“Good boy.” He swiped his thumb over Kurt’s sensitive pussy one more time before stepping away. He helped Kurt off the desk and Kurt put his clothes back on. Blaine swept him into another kiss and Kurt felt the stiff length of his cock in his pants.

“Oh! What about…?”

Blaine chuckled and kissed Kurt’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You have to get to your next class and I have to get ready for mine.” He kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt shivered. “Come back here after school. We’ll talk more then.”

Kurt nodded at him and allowed himself to be kissed once more before leaving. Suddenly, all those things people were saying that had bothered him that morning didn’t seem so important anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

Eating Kurt out had not been his plan. All he’d intended to do was apologize and tell him why it could never, ever happen again. But then Kurt had spent the period looking so utterly wounded, pouting those lips Blaine had never tasted. And, well, needless to say, now he _had_ tasted them. And if he’d thought having sex with Kurt had been a bad idea, it was laughable in comparison to the shit storm Blaine had brought down upon himself by _kissing_ him. He was perfectly convinced that had he not given into the temptation to kiss Kurt, he would have been able to reign the rest of himself in as well. He might not have found himself sitting in his desk chair with Kurt’s legs spread open around his face.

But god, had it been good. And the worst part? He was going to do it again. For the first ten minutes after Kurt had left Blaine had tried to delude himself into believing he was _actually_ just going to talk to him when he came back after school. But he quickly gave up on that lie.

The truth was, while he felt like the biggest shithead on earth for cheating on Will, Blaine was also entirely aware of that all-too-familiar sensation in one’s belly when one realizes he has just developed a crush on someone out of absolutely nowhere, like a punch in the face. It sort of made him _feel_ like he’d gotten punched in the face, too. He’d never in his wildest imagination seen himself being attracted to someone so young. Of course, there was something about Kurt that made him seem older. The way he carried himself, maybe. He exuded confidence, more than most teens could claim, anyway. And he was smart. That much Blaine knew for sure. Aside from his promiscuous behavior, Blaine had an inkling Kurt was incredibly mature for his age. And Blaine was fascinated. There was so much to be fascinated _by_. For one thing, Blaine found himself feeling addicted, for lack of a better word, to Kurt’s pussy. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. And after having gone down on him, Blaine knew he was hooked.

For the time being, he decided, it was best to just do what felt right. Not that cheating felt right, but…Kurt did. Kurt felt right.

The fact that he felt more right than Will, Blaine put down to the thrill of being with someone new. That was all. He was used to Will. That didn’t mean he didn’t still love him.

* * *

Blaine felt a little bit like he was shooting a porno.

Kurt walked into the room with his gaze lowered to the floor and his cheeks pink. He was the very picture of innocence, especially with the outfit he was wearing, which was almost not slutty at _all_. Really it was just tight. _Really_ tight. Tight enough there could be no mistaking what Kurt had under there. Or…didn’t have under there.

“Go ahead and close the door,” Blaine said. He sat down on the edge of the his desk and watched as Kurt removed the stopper and let the door snick shut. When he turned back around, there was a coy little smile on his face. It made Blaine laugh.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Anderson?” Kurt said in a breathy voice, lips still quirked.

“I thought I told you to call me Blaine.”

Kurt stepped closer to the desk. Blaine marveled at the whole situation.

“Oh,” Kurt said, and he bit his lip briefly. “Right. You wanted to see me, _Blaine_?”

Blaine just barely restrained himself from pouncing. If this was going to happen, there would be plenty of time for sex. Right now, they needed to talk about it. It wasn’t the conversation Blaine had had in mind this morning, yet it had him in a better mood.

“C’mere,” Blaine said. He hopped off the desk and patted the spot he’d vacated. Kurt took his place, swinging his legs, bumping his heels into the desk and making dull, hollow sounds. Blaine put his hands on Kurt’s thighs and he stopped. He smirked at Blaine.

“Sorry.”

Blaine shook his head, grinning, and leaned in to brush his lips over Kurt’s, more a tease than a kiss. Kurt made a noise in his throat that made Blaine chuckle. Whatever else Kurt may have been, he was still a horny teenager. Not that he himself wasn’t almost constantly horny, Blaine reflected. But that was off the subject.

“We have to talk, Kurt,” he said softly. “Before anything else happens—“

“So something else _is_ going to happen?” Kurt said slyly. Blaine huffed out a breath but couldn’t help smiling.  
  
“Before anything else happens,” he continued, ignoring Kurt’s question, “we have to…set some ground rules.”

“ _Ground rules_?” Kurt drawled. He rolled his eyes. “You are such a teacher.”

Blaine clenched his teeth and grabbed Kurt’s legs, opening them wide so he could step between them. His breath floated across Kurt’s ear. “ _Your_ teacher,” Blaine bit out. He squeezed his hands on Kurt’s thighs, earning a little squeak. It made his stomach twist hotly. “And if you want me to fuck you again, we’re gonna do this my way. Is that clear?”

Kurt, eyes wide, nodded. Blaine kissed just beneath his ear.

“Good,” he whispered. He pulled back, but his hands stayed where they were. It was his discreet way of maintaining power over the situation. His dominance in whatever relationship it was they had. Or were on their way to having. “Do you have a boyfriend, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Good,” Blaine repeated. “Are you hooking up with anyone regularly?”

Kurt uttered a small laugh. “Sorry. It’s just weird to hear a teacher use that term.”

Blaine smiled and rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-three, you know. I just graduated college this past May.”

Kurt spread his legs open wider and gave Blaine a sultry look, his eyelids lowered. “Almost six years older than me,” he said in a breathy voice. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s thighs again and tugged him forward, smashing their lips together. Kurt’s hand ended up in his hair and Blaine had to tug it back out. When he tried to pull away from Kurt’s mouth, Kurt bit his bottom lip. Blaine had already been at half mast. This pushed him the rest of the way.

“Are you?” he pressed, pushing Kurt back with a hand on his chest. “Are you hooking up with anyone?”

Kurt snorted. “Everyone.”

Blaine huffed in annoyance. “ _Regularly_?”

“Very,” Kurt said with a teasing smile. Blaine’s grip tightened again on his thighs.

“Kurt,” he said through clenched teeth. Kurt’s face grew pinker with arousal.

“Okay, okay,” Kurt conceded. “No. No one in particular on any regular basis.”

Blaine nodded, mollified. Somewhat.

“It’s true, though? You get around?”

Kurt frowned. “What do you mean, ‘it’s true’?”

“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. “I know you know the things the kids say about you.” He rubbed over Kurt’s legs and kissed his cheek. “That’s what’s gonna happen if you’re gonna, you know…throw yourself around.”

“I don’t _throw myself around_ ,” Kurt snapped. He tried to shove Blaine’s hands away but Blaine held tight. He enjoyed the way Kurt’s face deepened in color. “I was a virgin, remember?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not having penetrative sex doesn’t mean you’re not having sex,” Blaine told him with a raised eyebrow. He leaned forward and kissed the edge of Kurt’s jaw. “I don’t care what you were doing before. I don’t want you doing it anymore.”

He heard Kurt swallow and grinned against the skin of his neck.  
  
“Possessive?” Kurt breathed. Blaine chuckled.

“A little bit.”

“And what about you?” Kurt leaned back enough that he could see Blaine’s eyes. “Do _you_ have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Blaine said without hesitating. He looked back and forth between Kurt’s eyes. “And he can’t find out.”

Kurt smirked. “Whatever.” He grabbed Blaine’s tie and ran it through his fingers, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes. “As long as I have you when I want you.”

Blaine allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss. He dropped his mouth open and slipped his tongue through Kurt’s lips, licking across his pallet and pulling a shuddering gasp out of him.

“What were those ground rules?” Kurt mumbled.

Blaine elaborated between kisses:

“You’re done with everyone else. I don’t share.”

“Not a word to _anyone_.”

“Don’t ever talk to me about anything not school-related while we’re in the building.”

“This doesn’t mean you can slack on your work.”

This last one made Kurt pull away from a rather hungry kiss.

“Oh my god, _seriously_?”

He was laughing, but Blaine frowned. “Yes, _seriously_. Kurt, I have to cover my bases. This is so illegal.”

Kurt pursed his lips. “What does the legality of it have to do with my grades?”

Blaine ignored that. “I have one more rule,” he said, and he pulled away from Kurt, looking at him seriously. “I’m gonna give you my number. Do _not_ give this to anyone else. Don’t text me or call me during school. Don’t tell anybody you have it. In fact, don’t even put my _name_ in your phone. Save it under something else.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kurt. He did. Probably too much, in fact. But it was true, he had to cover his bases. If anyone were to find out, Blaine would lose everything. His job, his boyfriend, probably most of his friends. He’d go to jail. It would be on the news. He’d have to register as a sex offender, for crying out loud.

It struck him how absurd it was that he’d be willing to risk all that, but it didn’t _feel_ that absurd. Maybe a little scandalous—or a lot—and perhaps pretty douchey, considering he was cheating on his boyfriend. But there was just something about Kurt that made it worthwhile. And Blaine didn’t feel like exploring that too much just yet.

“I think I’ve got the ground rules down,” Kurt said, his smile impish.

Blaine marveled again. This time at the snarky, delicious piece of ass sitting on his desk.

* * *

Blaine learned the next day that Kurt had lunch fourth period.

He was in the middle of discussing an essay he was going to be assigning when the door opened and Kurt peeked his head in. Blaine gaped for a moment before composing himself, though his fists clenched into balls at his sides.

“Mr. Anderson?” Kurt said, looking for all the world like he was entirely innocent. “The headmaster wanted to see you. He said it wouldn’t take more than ten or fifteen minutes.”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He almost asked why Tom wouldn’t have called, then realized it would be counterproductive. Kurt would have to fumble for an excuse. Of course Tom didn’t really want to see him. Day two and Kurt was already breaking the rules.

Although, he didn’t recall exactly forbidding _sex_ during school hours.

Fuck.

He looked back at the class. It was only ten minutes into the period. He’d still have time when he came back.

God, he was seriously doing this, wasn’t he?

“Don’t go anywhere,” he warned the class. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes tops.”

He followed Kurt out of the room, closed the door behind them, and looked up and down the hall. When he’d confirmed they were alone, he pushed Kurt up against a wall and buried his face in Kurt’s delicious-smelling neck.

“You little slut,” he breathed. Kurt whimpered softly. “Couldn’t even wait until the end of the day, could you? You had to interrupt my class just so your needy pussy could have my attention.”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt said brokenly. Blaine sucked at Kurt’s skin and pressed his hips into Kurt’s, grinding his hardening cock against Kurt’s pussy.

“Uh uh,” Blaine said. His hand snuck down to cup Kurt through his jeans, rubbing over his pussy slowly, teasing him. Kurt’s mouth fell open. “Not during school hours, Kurt. If you’re gonna cut into my class time ‘cause of your greedy little cunt, it’s gonna be Mr. Anderson.”

Kurt sobbed quietly and moved his hips desperately against Blaine’s hand, looking for more friction. Blaine pressed harder. He would have liked to drag it out, but he didn’t have time. He had to get back to class.

And god, so many kids were just on the other side of the wall. Even more in the other classrooms lining the hallway. And _teachers_. Other _teachers_ were in there. And here he was, slipping his hand beneath his student’s pants, past his panties, and dipping his fingers into his pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed. Kurt nodded and swallowed loudly. His hands came up to squeeze Blaine’s shoulders. “How long have you been thinking about this, baby? Have you been soaking yourself in every class thinking about my cock?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurt whined. He humped against Blaine’s hand, but Blaine kept his touches light, teasing. He couldn’t help himself.

Anyone could walk by. Someone could walk out of any of those doors. But Kurt brought out something in Blaine that he couldn’t control. He spun Kurt around and pulled his jeans down over his ass. He kept his hand rubbing over Kurt’s wet pussy and the other worked on his own pants, opening them just enough so he could pull out his swollen cock. He was so hard, leaking copious amounts of precome. He slipped his cock between Kurt’s legs and let it glide over his pussy lips. Blaine could feel his heart in his throat, hear it pounding inside his head, but he couldn’t stop. Kurt brought his legs together and stuck his ass out further, giving Blaine a better angle. He gripped Kurt’s hips and fucked his thighs, sliding in and out, the head splitting Kurt’s lips open and bumping over his clit every time he fucked forward.

“Please,” Kurt whispered, voice scratchy and desperate. “Please, Mr. Anderson, _please_ , fuck me, I need it so bad.”

Blaine’s fingers tightened on Kurt’s hips and he kept going, moving more slowly and then speeding up again, stopping only when he knew he’d come if he didn’t.

“Fuck,” he breathed. He gripped the base of his cock and moved it forward until he felt it dip into Kurt’s cunt and Kurt’s breath hitched. “Is this what you needed, baby? You need a big cock to stuff your pussy? Couldn’t even wait another few hours, you greedy slut.”

He started to push inside and he heard Kurt sob. His head fell forward and Blaine saw his fingers turning white where they were gripping the wall. It was so wrong, but somehow, the fact that they were doing this in the middle of a hallway at school only made it hotter. They’d already been gone at least five minutes, so Blaine didn’t waste time before fucking him. He grabbed Kurt’s hips and started pounding, glad for the way their clothes muffled any noise.

Blaine leaned over Kurt’s back and kissed between his shoulder blades, the nape of his neck, beneath his ear.

“C’mon, Kurt,” he whispered. “C’mon, are you gonna come for me, baby? Right here in the middle of school? You love it, don’t you?” He nipped at Kurt’s ear and his hips sped up further as he got close himself, feeling his balls draw up tight. “You want someone to walk out of one of those classrooms and see you getting fucked by your teacher? Is that what you want, you slut? You want everyone to know you’re _mine_?”

Kurt’s whole body shuddered. He clenched down around Blaine’s cock and started to come, squirting around him and pumping his hips like he couldn’t control them. And he probably couldn’t. Blaine fucked him harder, using his body like it was a rag doll, slamming into him relentlessly until his own orgasm hit and he fucked Kurt through it. Kurt scrambled at the wall as Blaine pounded him into it, easing himself down from his orgasm. His come leaked out around his cock and down Kurt’s thighs, pooling in the crotch of his jeans. They stayed like that for almost a minute before Blaine gathered himself enough to pull out and tuck himself back into his pants.

With shaky hands, he spun Kurt back around. Kurt lunged for his mouth and Blaine met him halfway. He pushed Kurt back against the wall, licking into his mouth and sucking on his lips. Kurt whimpered and whined and clawed at Blaine’s chest.

“Jesus, Kurt,” he said finally, and Kurt laughed. Blaine cracked a smile. “We can’t do this.”

Kurt grinned coyly. “I think we already did, _Mr._ Anderson.”

Blaine reached down and cupped Kurt’s bare pussy, making him gasp. He kissed Kurt’s lower lip.

“Lose the attitude,” he whispered. “Don’t ever pull me out of a class again. Do you understand me?”

Kurt took a shaky breath, moving his hips against Blaine’s hand.

“Do you understand me?” he said again, sharply.

Kurt nodded.

“Good. Now go get cleaned up.”

And just as Kurt turned away, Blaine did something he hadn’t planned on doing. Again.

He grabbed Kurt’s wrist and spun him back around, kissing him hard on the lips. Kurt froze at first before melting into it and smiling. When they pulled away from each other, Blaine saw his eyes were sparkling.

“See you sixth period, Blaine.”

Blaine watched Kurt until he disappeared around a corner before going back into his classroom with butterflies in his stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

One of his many talents had always been finding loopholes. Kurt liked to toe the line, see what he could get away with. Pulling Blaine out of class for a fuck had been thrilling indeed. All those other students, all those teachers, any of them could have waltzed out of their classrooms at any time and the first thing they would have seen would have been the new English teacher pounding one of his students into the wall. He thought Blaine had gotten off on it too, but he also knew Blaine had been entirely serious when he told him not to do it again. Which, of course, didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to get Blaine to fuck him at school.

He had an idea, and it was all he could think about during lunch the next day. His friend Evan, a boy with neatly-cropped brown hair and a smile that had made Kurt swoon more than a few times, sat across from him eating a sandwich.

“You know,” Kurt said, scanning over a math test he’d gotten back earlier in the day with a big fat “B” circled in red at the top, “I get the feeling Mr. Weiland has it out for my blood. Why didn’t I get an A? The answers are all _right_. For god’s sake, you’d think an institution like this would, I don’t know, hire _good_ teachers.” He rolled his eyes and slipped the test into a folder, the folder into his bag. Evan shrugged and stuffed the last large piece of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing obscenely. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

When he’d swallowed, he said, “Mr. Weiland’s kind of an asshole, yeah.” He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin—it was things like that which made Kurt glad all over again that he went to a private prep school—and when he put it back down on the table, Kurt felt a shift in the atmosphere. “But, um…not all the teachers are bad, right?” He gave Kurt a _look_ , one that was so obvious Kurt just about felt sorry for him.

“Go ahead,” Kurt sighed. He leaned back in his chair and opened his arms in a gesture of capitulation. “I know what you’re gonna ask. Ask me.”

Evan looked troubled, a bit iffy about whether or not to pose the question that had surely been chasing itself around inside his head the past couple of days. People were starting to talk about it. It was the kids in Kurt’s English class, of course—they were the ones who’d inevitably caught onto the thick, cloying tension he and Blaine created in the classroom. And Kurt was a favorite subject of gossip, so of course something as scandalous as an affair with a _teacher_ would become a hot topic.

No one had a shred of evidence, but Evan looked nervous. And Kurt, with his insides squirming, put on his best bitch face with which to receive Evan’s stupid (accurate) question.

“Well, I…” Evan trailed off, looking both confused and nervous. Like he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question for fear of the answer he’d get. Kurt privately thought it said something about Evan’s intelligence if he thought Kurt would ever, _ever_ fess up to something like an affair with a teacher, regardless of its validity. “It’s just, you know, people have been talking.”

Kurt raised both eyebrows, urging Evan on. Evan looked flustered, but continued

“The new English teacher,” he said finally. “Mr. Anderson.” And Kurt was horrified to feel his face become a rather telling shade of pink at Blaine’s name. He fought it back with every ounce of willpower in his body.

“What about him?” he said, affecting a tone that was at once amused and pitying. As though Evan were childish to believe the rumors he heard.

“Oh, come on, Kurt. Like you haven’t heard the things everyone’s been saying about you guys.”

“Of course I have,” he snapped. “But I want you to say it, because maybe when you hear it leave your mouth you’ll realize how stupid it sounds.”

Evan did not appear offended by this. He only continued looking uncomfortable.

“So it’s not true?” he pressed. Kurt stayed silent, forcing him to answer his own question. “You’re not…sleeping with him?”

Kurt folded his arms over his chest and looked at Evan through slitted eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Evan,” he said, and Evan looked suddenly more nervous. “You’re my only _real_ friend at Dalton. You’re the only person in the whole school who knows all those rumors are just bullshit and I’ve never actually slept with any of the boys I hook up with.” Evan, his face red, nodded. “Does that answer your question?”

Evan blew out a long breath and his shoulders visibly relaxed. He cracked a smile.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He shrugged again. “Sorry, Kurt. I just…I had to ask, you know? Everyone’s, like, pretty adamant about it.”

Kurt heaved a long-suffering sigh and stood up from the table. The period was almost over and he had English next.

“We go to a private, all-boys prep school, Evan,” Kurt said, dropping his bitch act and shrugging one shoulder up. “What would everyone be doing if they weren’t spreading rumors about me?”

* * *

Kurt found his chance after school that day. He’d just walked out into the parking lot when he saw Blaine, head bent over his phone, a grin stretching his face. _His boyfriend_? Kurt wondered. And he was startled by the pang of something that felt a lot like envy in his chest. What did he care if Blaine had a boyfriend? They were just fucking, after all. And as he’d told Blaine the other day, as long as he got to have him when he wanted him, it was all the same to Kurt who Blaine chose to spend his time outside of school with. They weren’t a thing. They weren’t even friends. They were a teacher and a student who had some kind of crazy chemistry they needed to get out of their systems.

He followed Blaine to his car, waiting as he finished texting and then got into the driver’s seat. With a smirk planted firmly on his face, Kurt sauntered over to the other side of the car and opened the door, glad to find it unlocked. He slipped inside and smiled at Blaine, giving him a coquettish bat of his eyelashes. He was a little bit nervous, but it was almost entirely eclipsed by the fire in his belly, at the base of his spine, prickling and tingling and winding its way up each and every vertabra until it reached the back of his neck and settled there like a little flame. His cunt pulsed and Kurt clenched around nothing. His eyes flicked to Blaine’s lap and back up.

He’d fully expected Blaine to freak out first. But Kurt was beginning to understand that, with Blaine, nothing was predictable, nothing was what it seemed at first glance. He was this preppy, done-up, twenty-three-year-old English teacher straight out of college who had a knack for controlling entire classes of teenaged, private-school boys and a penchant for cheating on his boyfriend with his students.

Well, maybe not a penchant for it. Just him. Just Kurt.

Blaine stared at him a moment, burning Kurt with those eyes that held such filthy promises, those eyes that froze Kurt in place and kept him there under their scrutiny until he felt like squirming.

Finally, Blaine said, “Get in the back,” with a gesture of his head. Kurt’s chest exploded with heat and his pussy throbbed, pulsing out fluid and soaking his panties. God, this was even hotter than yesterday, getting fucked in the hallway. _This_. This was something out of his dirtiest fantasies. His peers weren’t hidden behind walls now, tucked away in classrooms, out of sight. They were everywhere, all over the parking lot, talking to friends, texting in their cars, talking about such incredibly trivial things that _weren’t_ Kurt having sex with Mr. Anderson right under their noses.

Or, maybe they were talking about it. Shit. Some of them probably _were_ talking about it. And they had no idea how close they were to the subject of their gossip, their rumors. Kurt moaned where he’d settled into the back seat, back against one window, legs spread open in front of him. He was beginning to pant, so worked up over this whole situation, over _Blaine_. His gorgeous, sexy teacher, so dapper, so put together and polite on the outside. Such a delicious, _filthy_ animal just below the surface. And Kurt, he’d unleashed that. He’d gotten Blaine to that point where he lost control of his careful temper enough to fuck one of his students.

Blaine climbed carefully over the console to join Kurt. He lifted Kurt’s legs and settled between them, resting them at his sides.

“You’re insatiable,” he said softly, without even a trace of that facetiousness Kurt had become used to when they had sex. Instead, he sounded reverent. Like maybe he’d been thinking about this all day. Maybe he wanted it just as badly as Kurt did. Needed it, even, just like Kurt felt like _he_ needed it. Every time they did this he needed it more.

“Well you’re a good fuck,” he countered, signature coy smile on his face. Blaine laughed and began planting little kisses beneath Kurt’s ear, trailing them along his neck, down his collarbone. Kurt’s hands found their way into Blaine’s hair, tamed with just enough gel. He thought he’d like to see Blaine in the morning, or after a shower. See what his hair looked like after he’d slept on it. Dried it with a towel.

Kurt was wearing a skirt today, having decided it would be fun to tease Blaine that way now that they’d established something, some sort of…not relationship, but. Well. Whatever it was. Now, Blaine lifted the front of Kurt’s skirt so it fell to his stomach. He was wearing these really pretty pale blue panties he’d gotten from H&M only two weeks ago, and there was without a doubt a sizable wet spot on them. He’d been soaking himself all day, thinking about how he’d get Blaine to fuck him at school without pulling him out of a class. And maybe it was a bit detrimental to this thing they were doing, the fact that Kurt got off so hard on getting fucked in public, with the looming possibility of getting caught.

Packed into such a cramped space, both of them desperate for one another’s body, they didn’t drag it out. Kurt was beginning to feel disappointed by the fact that they _never_ really got to drag it out, always pressed for time, always under the shadow of fear at _actually_ being found out.

As he pulled Kurt’s panties down over his legs, throwing them into the trunk, leaving his skirt, he said, “Did you wear this skirt for me?”

Kurt blushed a little, grinned and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice soft and breathy, his eyes lidded.

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” Blaine groaned. His fingers traced light patterns over Kurt’s mound, pulling moans and gasps and pleas for _more, oh more, Blaine, please_ out of him. He felt his clit throbbing, and every time Blaine dragged his thumb over it, he whined pitifully. He finally slipped two fingers into Kurt’s hole, all the way to the knuckles, and Kurt’s back arched. He felt Blaine watching him with his dark, intense eyes, fucking him hard and fast, using his palm to grind against Kurt’s clit.

Kurt was gripping the back of the seat with one hand and holding onto Blaine’s arm (thick with hard muscle) with the other, trying to keep himself steady, trying to ground himself. But it was impossible. Blaine’s fingers felt so good, so hot, and they were slamming into him over and over again, bringing him mercilessly to the edge. There was no teasing, no slow build up. Blaine was watching his fingers with an expression that made him look slightly insane.

Blaine put his face beside Kurt’s ear, breathing hot over his skin. The fire in Kurt’s belly flared. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “That’s it, come on. Are you gonna come on my fingers? All over my car? You little slut.”

Kurt’s fingers dug into the surfaces they were gripping and he did come, overwhelmed by the smell of Blaine in this small space, his presence everywhere, hovering above him, inside of him, all around him. He humped Blaine’s hand, body shivering as pulse after pulse of exquisite pleasure made his whole body throb.

He didn’t know if he’d been expecting it, didn’t have time to contemplate before Blaine was unzipping and pulling his big, hard cock out of his pants. Kurt’s pussy twitched and throbbed and he watched with round eyes as Blaine pushed the fat head against Kurt’s fucked out hole. He slid in at a steady pace, ripping Kurt open on his girth. His cock was so hot, so _big_ , Kurt swore he could feel every dip, every vein, could feel the thickness of the head as it pushed deeper inside his body.

“Fuck,” Kurt bit out. Blaine’s hands were big and warm and strong where they held him down, held him steady. Kurt thought there wasn’t anything in the world quite like the feelings Blaine evoked in him when he was sliding in and pulling back out just to slam inside again, forcing Kurt up against the window, foggy with their heavy breathing.

“You’re so tight,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. His fucking was relentless, knocking the breath out of Kurt’s body with every rough stroke. Was the car moving? It could have been. There was every possibility that it was, that all his peers, all his teachers, could see Mr. Anderson’s car rocking like he’d installed hydraulics. And they’d wonder, but they wouldn’t know for sure that it was Kurt.

And then Blaine shifted, and suddenly the angle was just right, and Kurt’s head fell back against the window with a dull thud. Blaine got his hand over Kurt’s mouth just in time to muffle his scream. Blaine mouthed at Kurt’s neck, leaving his hand on his mouth, both to keep him quiet and because it was kind of hot, actually.

“There?” he whispered, punctuating his question with a hard thrust, making Kurt moan beneath his hand. “Yeah? Fuck, you take my cock like you were made to do it.” He kissed Kurt’s cheek, his chin, and then his lips. His fingers dug ten bruises into Kurt’s pale waist. Kurt couldn’t imagine how good this was, how raw and dirty and incredible. Blaine’s cock filled him, stretched him to what he was sure had to be his limit, anything more and he would split in half.

Privately, ridiculously, Kurt thought maybe he _was_ made to take Blaine’s cock. It certainly felt that way. And when Blaine found his G-spot and his thick, swollen cock began to hammer against it on _every single thrust_ , Kurt thought he might lose his mind.

“Don’t stop!” he tried to scream, but it was stifled by Blaine’s palm. “Please, please don’t stop!”

Blaine grunted and Kurt could feel his desperation, could feel the way he was willing himself to hold on until Kurt came. And that was so unexpectedly attractive—that Blaine cared about his pleasure, his orgasm, even in this twisted game they were playing—that Kurt was startled into an orgasm. The pleasure climbed, starting in the base of his spine and radiating outwards until it lit his whole body on fire and the orgasm peaked. Kurt could hardly breathe and he felt it as he started to squirt, this enormous, overwhelming explosion of unearthly pleasure that was so big it couldn’t be contained inside of him. Somewhere in there Blaine lost it—there was a hot, wet burst inside Kurt’s pussy as Blaine filled him with his come.

His hips slowed gradually and Kurt’s arm fell over his sweaty face. He swallowed several times, tried and failed to form words. Blaine seemed to be in a similar state.

Finally, he rasped, “That was…”

“Yeah,” Kurt responded. Neither seemed to know adequate words. Blaine pulled out carefully and flopped down beside Kurt, whose hand found its way back to Blaine’s hair and stroked through it absently. The domesticity and strange familiarity of it just barely penetrated the cloud in Kurt’s brain.

When they’d been lying there a few minutes, both heads down so as not to be seen through the windows (which were probably opaque with fog anyway), Blaine lifted his head. His eyes were sparkling.

“Hey,” he said, his smile devious, making Kurt’s heart flutter. “Would you like to come over to my apartment for a little while? Have…dinner? Or something?”

The way his teacher’s face filled with color was positively charming and Kurt laughed.

“I’d love to.”

* * *

Blaine opened the door for Kurt and gestured inside, wearing a smile that made him look like Prince Charming’s even more attractive brother.

“Wow,” Kurt said, raising his eyebrows as he looked around. He dropped his bag on an overstuffed chair and turned to look at Blaine, rather impressed. “This is really nice.”

Blaine smirked, rolled his eyes. “Will decorated it. I’m hopeless at that kind of thing.”

“No kidding?” Kurt said, his grin impish. He went over to Blaine and put his hands on his chest. “So there _are_ things you aren’t good at?”

Blaine laughed. He kissed Kurt softly, and when he pulled away Kurt felt like he’d taken his breath with him. His heart was beating as if he’d just got done running.

“Not many,” Blaine said. Kurt tried to scoff, but was cut off when Blaine’s mouth covered his again.

“Where is your boyfriend, anyway?”

Blaine pulled away and helped Kurt out of his coat, which he hung in a closet near the front door.

“Oh, he’s still at work. He’s Accounts Payable and Receivable at a car dealership. Long hours, but he makes pretty good money doing it.”

Kurt hummed, feigning interest, though he was sure Blaine could see right through it.

“Anyway,” Blaine continued, leading Kurt into the kitchen, where he flicked the lights on. “What d’you wanna eat?” His smile was huge and dorky and Kurt couldn’t imagine anything more attractive. “I should warn you, though. I’m a terrible cook. We actually may be better off ordering something in.”

Kurt gave him an unimpressed look and went to the freezer.

"Blaine," Kurt deadpanned, a smile pulling at his lips. "Really? _All_ frozen food? Don’t you _ever_ cook?”  
  
Blaine looked sheepish. He shrugged and rubbed his arm. “Neither of us can cook anything very well. Will tries sometimes, but…” Again, a shrug. Kurt sighed emphatically and began rummaging around, excited by the prospect of cooking for someone who may actually appreciate it.

“Well lucky for you, I’m an excellent cook. Prepare your taste buds.”

* * *

He found enough ingredients in Blaine’s apartment to put together pasta primavera. He even found the right Italian herbs, though there was no squash or zucchini. Still, the peppers were fresh and delicious and Blaine, who was used to frozen food and take-out, didn’t stop groaning.

Kurt eyed him from across the table, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth, eyebrow raised.

“Do you _always_ make those sounds when you eat?”

Blaine laughed, nearly spraying his food all over the table. Kurt had to cover his own mouth to keep from doing the same.

“Only when the food is this good. Think you could come cook for me, like, every night?”

Kurt snorted. “I don’t know, would your boyfriend be happy about that?”

Blaine pouted at him and went back to eating. Kurt marveled at the way Blaine transformed when he wasn’t in school. He finally seemed his age. And Kurt was discovering this new side of him that wasn’t just an ungodly attractive teacher, but someone he could see himself being around. Spending time with.

Was this a one-time thing? He found himself hoping not.

When they’d finished eating they brought their dishes into the kitchen and cleaned up, Kurt washing, Blaine drying. Again, Kurt was struck by the domesticity of it, and it created a warm bubble in his belly. He’d just finished rinsing out the pot he’d used, the last of the dishes, when he felt Blaine’s arms wrap around his waist. His face descended into Kurt’s neck, where he began sucking tiny kisses into his skin. Kurt breathed, trying to will away his blush to no avail. It was so strange, doing this in Blaine’s apartment with his boyfriend absent, totally none the wiser.

So _hot_.

Blaine’s hand slipped down until his fingers brushed the waist of Kurt’s skirt. And when Blaine pressed forward, he could feel his cock against his ass, so hot and already hard. For him.

 _God_. How was anyone supposed to get anything done around here?

“Blaine—“

“Shh,” Blaine whispered, nipping at his ear and sliding his hand further into Kurt’s skirt, until he was cupping him over his panties. “Just—“

Blaine’s phone cut him off. The ringtone was loud and obtrusive in the little bubble they’d created for themselves here. The phone popped it and sent them spiraling back into reality.

“Holy shit,” Blaine breathed. With one hand still in Kurt’s skirt, he reached for his phone with the other. Kurt was frozen as he listened to Blaine answer: “Hello? Hi, baby, I… Oh, good, yeah, that’s awesome! Okay! Oh, I um…I already ate, actually, I thought…yeah. Sure, okay. Yeah, no, I just…I was napping. Had Chinese.” He laughed and it was so transparent that Kurt winced, glad his boyfriend couldn’t see the fear in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Yeah, love you, too, baby. Okay, bye.”

He ended the call and put his phone down on the counter in front of Kurt. He breathed out a long, heavy breath and then seemed to realize where his other hand was. He pulled it out of Kurt’s skirt and, looking at it for a moment, decided to run it under the tap to wash off Kurt’s juices. Kurt’s face was bright red.

“So…he’s coming home early, I gather?”

Blaine only nodded. Kurt heard him swallow.

“Okay, well I—“

“You have to go.”

Kurt frowned. “I know that. I was just going to say I should get going, then.”

Blaine nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth. He ran a palm over his face.

“What if he hadn’t called? Jesus Christ.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, feeling suddenly irritated, and he didn’t want to explore the origin of that emotion at the moment. He traipsed into the living room and put his shoes and jacket on, pussy still aching, bitter at having been interrupted. It had been such a pleasant evening. Why did Blaine’s boyfriend have to go and ruin it?

And wow, maybe that was worth considering.

But no. Not now. Not while his emotions were running high. He didn’t want to think about it. There was too much room for guilt there, and Kurt didn’t do well with guilt.

“Well, he did call,” Kurt snapped. He looked at Blaine apologetically and relaxed his shoulders. “Sorry. I just…”

“Yeah,” Blaine said. He nodded. “I know.”

And there was something there in Blaine’s face, something Kurt didn’t like. Something hazardous to this _thing_ they’d been doing. It had barely been a week; he wasn’t giving this up yet. The sex was too good, and he liked being around Blaine too much. It seemed incredible to him they’d only known each other, what, two weeks? Hardly had any conversations beyond discussing the sex. And yet, it felt so easy. So simple being around Blaine, like he’d known him so much longer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kurt said as he slipped his shoes on and laced them up. Blaine helped him into his jacket, and it looked like he was going to kiss him, but at the last minute changed his mind. Kurt nearly pulled him into one anyway but thought better of it.

  
“Yeah,” Blaine said softly. “Tomorrow. Kurt, I’m—“

“It’s okay,” Kurt lied. “It’s fine. G’night, Blaine.”

He’d walked all the way down the hall to the elevator when he heard Blaine’s door finally shut.

He was suddenly glad he’d followed Blaine to his apartment in his own car. He didn’t know if he could bear a drive back to the school in such close quarters. His stomach was alive with nerves, anxiety, rumbling with guilt and bitterness.

He pushed it all aside. It wasn’t worth examining right now. He was too emotionally exhausted.


	7. Chapter 7

Their close call with Will had scared Blaine just about shitless. When he thought about how near they’d come to getting caught—Jesus, _what if he hadn’t called_? This thought plagued Blaine the rest of the night and followed him into bed. He dreamed of being caught in a thousand different ways, each one more horrific and nauseating than the last. These dreams happened one after the other all night long, and when Blaine woke the next morning he felt like he’d spent the night jogging rather than sleeping. There was cold sweat beaded on his forehead and his lower back, his heart drummed where it felt like it had relocated to outside his rib cage, just beneath the skin of his chest, so close it might simply explode out of him if it didn’t chill the hell out. Beside him, Will slept soundly, his breathing light, even. He had to have been exhausted, working so many long days back-to-back. And Blaine felt like a real jerk, sneaking around behind his hard-working boyfriend’s back, sleeping with his student. God, could he be more of an asshole?

It was these thoughts as he made his coffee before he had to leave for school that convinced him of the necessity of breaking this  _thing_ with Kurt off. It had been fun while it lasted (more than fun—it had been positively thrilling, dirty, astoundingly good), but last night had been too close for comfort. If Will caught them, who was to say he wouldn’t be so angry he’d let something slip to someone who would rat him out? Right now, Blaine’s life was a nickel circling a deep sink. If they were caught, down the drain he’d go. Everything he’d worked for. For fuck’s sake, he’d be throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime, having landed an incredible teaching job at an  _incredible_ institution when teaching jobs were difficult enough to land, people being let go up, down, and sideways.

It was plain irresponsible, and it was unfair to Will for any number of reasons. So he had to stop. Kurt would be devastated, but he was seventeen. He’d get over it in a couple weeks, move on to someone else. Will, on the other hand. He was twenty-two and at least under the impression that he was in a committed relationship. It was interesting, he thought, how the older you got, the more break-ups you endured, the more they seemed to hurt. Maybe because they meant more now. Maybe because, outside of school, the idea of marriage began to loom and cast shadows. Was it supposed to feel like that? A dark cloud?

Blaine pushed the thought to the back of his mind where he stored everything else he didn’t want to acknowledge. This one he slotted in a little cubby just beside the one labeled “Feelings for Kurt.”

* * *

When Kurt walked into his classroom ten minutes after the last bell had rung the next day, Blaine wasn’t surprised. But that didn’t stop him from being upset about it. Didn’t stop his stomach from twisting into a billion little impossible knots he’d never be able to unravel.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” Kurt asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

Blaine, without looking up from the book he was annotating, said, “I told you not to text me during school.”

He heard Kurt’s footsteps as he closed in on Blaine’s desk, but he kept his gaze resolutely on the book. He stared so intently at the word “is” that the surrounding words on the page became blurry and distorted.

“I texted you when I got home last night.”

Blaine ran the tip of his tongue across his teeth, sighed, and finally looked up, his eyes pained. “Look, Kurt,” he said, setting his pen down in the crease of the book, dropping his act because he just couldn’t bear it, “we can’t do this anymore. You know that. I know you do. What happened last night…” He shook his head and ran his palm over his eyes. “It’s too risky. And besides that, I have a boyfriend, Kurt. I can’t do this to him. I’m sorry I…. I shouldn’t have started this whole thing in the first place. It isn’t your fault. You’re seventeen, you don’t understand.”

Kurt scoffed and a look crossed his face that made the knots in Blaine stomach twist even tighter.

“What, pray tell, don’t I understand?” He jutted his chin out, raised an eyebrow, daring Blaine to answer that question. He didn’t. His face colored and he looked back down. “You mean responsibility? I don’t understand commitment? The concept of cheating? Come on,  _Mr. Anderson,_ enlighten me. At the tender age of seventeen, what is it I don’t understand about this situation?”

“Kurt,” Blaine said roughly. He looked up through his eyelashes, head still tilted down. “Stop it.”

He saw Kurt begin to fume. His face turned red with indignation. “You know what? You’re right. It’s obviously  _me_ that needs to get a clue. I am clearly the delusional one in this relationship.”

“There  _is_ no relationship,” Blaine said through clenched teeth. He heard the small click Kurt made with his tongue, saw the irritation and disappointment in his eyes, and put everything he had in him towards ignoring it.

Kurt pursed his lips and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Whatever, Blaine.”

“Mr. Anderson.”

Kurt’s mouth fell partly open in shock. He spun angrily on his heel, and as he stalked away (hips swaying maddeningly), he heard the muttered “asshole” that Kurt left him to dwell on for the rest of the day.

* * *

It wasn’t just the rest of the day, though. That comment didn’t leave him alone, and Blaine couldn’t decide whether he’d done the right thing. Which was ridiculous, because  _of course he had._  He’d cut off an illicit affair before it could get out of hand. Before Kurt could develop feelings (conveniently neglecting to acknowledge his own feelings, or the fact that somewhere in the past week, having fucked him three times, feelings may have already developed for Kurt).

It didn’t matter. Will had feelings too, and  _those_ were Blaine’s priority.

He supposed he deserved the relentless teasing Kurt punished him with over the next few days and all the way through the following week. He wore skirts, shorts, tight jeans, and shirts with low necklines that showed off his collarbones. Blaine thought he’d even worn something that shimmered on his lips a few times, making them that much more enticing.

On Monday, he wore the same skirt he’d had on the day Blaine had fucked him in his car. He spent the period tracing his glistening lips with the back of his pen; his legs crossed tightly enough so Blaine could see all the way up his thigh and the panties under his skirt. Light blue.

Tuesday he wore another skirt. He spread his legs just enough that Blaine could see the way he’d tugged his panties up through his folds, giving Blaine a decent view of his flushed pussy lips. He could just imagine his swollen little clit under there, the friction his underwear created over it.

And so the week went. Slutty little outfits, rubbing himself off in class, doing everything in his power to punish Blaine for what he’d done. And god, was it working.

Then everything stopped.

* * *

Kurt woke up Saturday morning feeling like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his throat. There was that bubble he always felt when he was getting ready to puke.

He went downstairs in his pajamas and drank a glass of water, which helped a little bit, but his stomach still felt unsettled. Roiling and bubbling. There was a niggling little _thing_ in the back of his head, like he’d forgotten something, but it was so small and unattainable that he put it easily out of his mind.

He had plans with Rachel that day. They were going clothes-shopping. The nausea came and went. He was mostly able to ignore it. The niggling thing in his head asserted itself when, at H&M, the insatiable craving for a hot dog barreled into his head and made his mouth water.

He ate it ravenously, and found himself nauseous again afterward. A large glass of water dulled the sensation enough to keep any vomit at bay.

This went on for another week. It had been two since he and Blaine had spoken beyond school-related topics, and that included only the time after class Kurt had stayed to ask about a question regarding a particular format Blaine wanted used on their current essay.

The proximity had engulfed Kurt’s body in heat and tingles that made it almost unbearable.

* * *

Wednesday.

Kurt threw up that morning. It was the first time and it reached its sharp claws into the back of his mind and sunk them deep into that niggling _thing_ and held it up in front of his nose. A series of snapshots presently flashed through his mind like some kind of movie character’s revelational montage at the climax of the film.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, and in an instant his vision was blurry.

His finger hovered over Rachel’s name on his contact list, but something stopped him. Not Rachel. She would panic, and that would feed his panic. And that wasn’t good. Rachel was the match to his gasoline.

He paced his room for an hour, panicking, flapping his hands. He lay on his bed and he cried, and then he’d get up and pace again. He pressed into his belly, a lump forming in his throat when he thought about the implications of his suspicions.

A human body. Inside. Of him.

His dad was at work, and Kurt wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —tell Burt even if he was here.

He needed an adult. He wasn’t about to get a pregnancy test by himself. He wouldn’t know what to do if…

He couldn’t even think about it.

An adult.

Right.


	8. Chapter 8

He waited another few days. In those days, he didn’t flirt with Blaine. He hardly acknowledged him, so preoccupied with his dilemma. Which, of course, were it true, involved Blaine; but Kurt just couldn’t do it yet.

The next time he had to jump out of bed in the morning to make it to the toilet in time to puke, he decided it couldn’t wait any longer. All day his stomach was in knots, he felt on the verge of tears. Evan kept trying to ask what was wrong, but Kurt could barely hear him. Blood rushed in his ears and made everything else sound muffled.

Blaine’s class was just about unbearable. He couldn’t look at him, could hardly breathe, let alone pay attention to the lesson. If he had looked, he would have seen the concern on Blaine’s face. Concern whose roots were so very, very inaccurate.

After the last bell rang, before even going to his locker, Kurt headed to Blaine’s classroom. The corridors seemed to pulse in time with his head and his heart. He felt like his eyes were pushing their way out of his skull. His tongue was dry and his lips, too. Yet beyond the twisting and turning knots of anxiety, Kurt swore he could feel something else in there. Even if that wasn’t possible this early (given he was right, and he had a bun in the oven), he felt it. He felt it like it was a whole goddamn baby in there punching his guts and shoving them up his throat.

When he walked into the classroom and closed the door, Blaine immediately sighed.

“Kurt—”

Kurt shook his head, and the extreme paleness of his face must have been enough to stop Blaine short. His thick eyebrows drew together and he looked worried, but it hadn’t clicked yet. Kurt knew that. He had no idea.

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and with it came tears. Small ones that leaked down his cheeks and made Blaine stand up and pull Kurt into a hug. His strong arms felt safe and Kurt buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder and let the tears come, let all the stress and anguish and anxiety of the last few days, and the weeks before that of not being allowed to talk to Blaine, drain out of him.

“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. His hand rubbed up and down Kurt’s back, his fingers pressing gently into the tense muscles. “Baby, what is it?”

And that word again, like it had slipped out, it made Kurt choke on a sob and he dug his nails into Blaine’s shoulders, pressed his face into Blaine’s neck. The smell of Blaine’s sweat and cologne was so soothing.

Into his neck, his words muffled on purpose, Kurt said, “I think I’m pregnant, Blaine.”

Blaine’s whole body froze; his fingers and hands dug into Kurt’s body. He stood there holding Kurt another thirty seconds before gently prying him off, and Kurt looked up at him with puffy red eyes. Blaine was as white as he must have been. He looked panicked.

He shook his head. His chest had begun heaving.

“No,” he said. More tears from Kurt.

“I’ve been throwing up,” Kurt told him in a quavery, wet voice. “Every morning I’m nauseous. And I…” Another breath and Kurt rubbed his hands over his face, keeping it obscured there. “My period’s a week late.”

Blaine flopped down into his desk chair and pushed a hand through his hair, looking dazed. Kurt walked hesitantly over and stood there with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Have you taken a test?” Blaine finally asked.

Kurt shook his head. “I’m…I don’t know…” He trailed off helplessly, but Blaine seemed to understand. Kurt was seventeen. He didn’t have a boyfriend to help him with this, even a teenage one. He was on his own. On his own and with an anatomy that science hadn’t entirely figured out yet.

They’d told him he probably couldn’t get pregnant.

And Rachel had said he should have used condoms anyway.

He’d been so stupid.

Blaine sat at his desk and stared at a piece of paper blankly for a few more minutes. He kept running his hands through his hair and rubbing his neck. Tears continued to leak and Kurt made little sniffling noises, completely out of his element and terrified.

“I’ll come with you,” said Blaine. He looked up at Kurt and Blaine shook his head . “Of course I’ll come with you.” He stood and wrapped a hand around the back of Kurt’s neck, pulling him in to his chest. His hand slid down to Kurt’s arm and he rubbed up and down, down and up, squeezing gently. “It’s gonna be okay, Kurt.” He kissed the top of his forehead and Kurt buried his face again in Blaine’s chest to muffle his crying. “I promise. You’re not doing this alone. But first let’s go get the pregnancy test.”

* * *

It was a huge debacle. They couldn’t go into the store together on the off chance someone who knew one or both of them saw them buying a pregnancy test, let alone hanging around each other outside of school.

Blaine went in. Kurt sat in Blaine’s car and let the sound of the radio wash over him without hearing it. Tears dripped steadily down his cheeks and clung to his chin. When Blaine got back into the car and looked at Kurt, he moved forward for a second, either to hug Kurt or to kiss him, but he stopped himself halfway and instead put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

“Okay?” he said, his voice hushed. Kurt kept his gaze forward and said nothing. He heard Blaine sigh, felt another squeeze on his nape, and then the hand was gone. They pulled out of the Walgreens parking lot and headed toward Blaine’s apartment. As long as Will didn’t surprise him again, they’d have until at least nine o’clock, Blaine told him.

 _Unless he doesn’t call_ , Kurt thought, and for the first time the horrifying gravity of that potential situation hit him as it must have hit Blaine the first time it happened.

That thought drilled further into Kurt’s brain the difference not just in their ages, but in their maturity levels. Sure, Blaine was only twenty-three. But that was six years and a whole lot of puberty ahead of Kurt, who wouldn’t be eighteen for another six months. And for all he knew, Blaine would be twenty-four next week.

But as he watched Blaine drop the plastic bag onto the coffee table and take the test out to study the box’s instructions, Kurt felt a rush of gratitude. Teen pregnancies happened all the time, but at least this one didn’t involve _two_ teenagers. Blaine was an adult, even if a young one, and Kurt felt a little bit less crazed with Blaine privy to the situation now.

Blaine handed the test to Kurt, eyes wide and earnest. “All you have to do is pee on it,” he said. The apples of Kurt’s cheeks turned pink. “After you do, leave it on a piece of toilet paper, ‘cause we’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

Kurt’s heart was hammering through the whole process, and it was difficult to get himself to pee when he was so nervous, so tense. He managed, though, and as Blaine had asked set the test on a piece of toilet paper and went back out to the bedroom. Blaine was sitting with his head in his hands on the mattress. Kurt sat down beside him.

A minute passed in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said softly.

Blaine’s head snapped up to look at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Kurt,” he said emphatically, “this is _not_ your fault. This is…” He laughed sadly and shook his head, put his hand to his chest. “This is _my_ fault. I made the decision to initiate it, and I did it without even…god, without even _thinking_ about condoms.” Once more he shook his head at himself and dropped his head back into his hands. “I was fucking a _pussy_ ,” he said, more to himself than to Kurt, it seemed. “How did this not occur to me?”

“I’m a boy,” Kurt said quietly and shrugged. “Besides, we were both kind of…caught up in it…” His face flamed and Blaine looked at him, cracking a small smirk.

“Yeah, all three times, huh?”

Kurt smiled demurely and shrugged again, catching his lower lip with his teeth.

Neither was aware of the way they continued to smile at one another, their eyes sharing things their words wouldn’t say out loud, and maybe in some cases couldn’t.

The way they moved toward each other was natural; Blaine’s hand found the back of Kurt’s neck and Kurt’s hands came up flat against Blaine’s chest. They kissed ravenously, pouring into it all the anger and resentment, the lust, and something else, something softer just beneath, in the way Blaine kissed Kurt’s lower lip when they broke for air.

“We should check,” Blaine said into his mouth. Kurt nodded, but stayed put. After a pause, “Want me to get it?”

A fresh tear rolled down Kurt’s cheek when he nodded.

“Yes, please,” he said wetly.

Blaine retrieved the test from the bathroom and returned to his spot next to Kurt, where he let an arm fall over Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt put his face in Blaine’s shoulder.

“Just tell me,” was muffled in Blaine’s shirt.

It took a minute, and he knew Blaine was staring at the back, waiting, stalling. Then there was movement, and Kurt braced himself.

The longer the silence held, the tighter Kurt’s stomach twisted, until finally he squeezed his eyes shut and cried. Blaine pulled him closer, fingers digging into Kurt’s arm, and he put his lips to the top of Kurt’s head. Kurt clutched at Blaine’s chest and cried silently into his shirt, soaking it through. Blaine just held him and rocked him and said nothing, let him cry.

When the crying slowed, Blaine finally spoke. “I’m gonna make you an appointment with a doctor,” he said gently. “And I’m gonna go with you. Until then, can we agree not to worry about any decisions?”

The knots didn’t loosen, but they didn’t tighten, either. He nodded.

Blaine’s hand was suddenly pushing through Kurt’s hair, lifting it off his sweaty forehead, and Kurt rested his cheek on Blaine’s chest, his body relaxing with one slow breath.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Kurt,” said Blaine. And with one arm around his shoulders and the hand of the other playing with his hair, Kurt believed him.

* * *

Blaine made them mac n’ cheese and they sat on the couch in the living room to eat, Kurt curled up with his legs beneath him on one side and Blaine sitting crossed-legged a few feet away. It was nice; relaxed, somehow, given the events that had taken place an hour before and the ensuing emotions. Mostly, Kurt had just been quiet while Blaine made dinner. Both had needed time to think and absorb.

This was _real_. Kurt was pregnant. During one of those three times they’d fucked, one of Blaine’s sperm had fertilized an egg and defied a majority of the research which had been done on boypussies. Rachel’s words echoed in Kurt’s head as he stirred his macaroni with a spoon.

 _You don’t wanna find out the hard way_ , she’d said.

Well, now he had. And something he’d said in Blaine’s class once popped into his head: no use crying over spilled milk. Like Meursalt in _The Stranger_ , Kurt and Blaine had chosen a course of action, and an inevitable consequence had ensued. That was it. What was done was done. More decisions would have to be made, and some of them would be good ones, while others would be bad ones. But no matter what, consequences would follow. It was the way of the world.

Kurt’s philosophical musings were interrupted by Blaine, “It’s not pasta prima-whatever,” he said, smiling lightly, “but is it okay? You’re not really eating.”

Kurt shook his head and lifted the spoon to take a bite, then lowered it back to the full bowl.

“It’s not that,” he assured Blaine with a small grin. “I’m just—”

“Not so hungry, yeah,” Blaine finished for him. He nodded his understanding. “That’s alright.”

Kurt said, “I was thinking about _The Stranger_.”

Blaine chuckled and set his bowl down on the coffee table half-full, which for him was like not eating. “Interesting,” he nodded. “We did what we did, now we deal with it.” Blaine reached over and took Kurt’s bowl to set it on the table beside his own then moved in toward him, pulling him against his side with an arm over his shoulders. “And you know I’m gonna help you, right? No matter what follows, you aren’t doing this alone.”

Kurt’s smile was tired but grateful and he cuddled into Blaine, closing his eyes. Blaine rubbed his arm and Kurt felt the way his chest moved with his breathing, could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. It occurred to him that somewhere inside his body, maybe not yet, but soon, would be a second heartbeat alongside his own. The thought was at once terrifying and intriguing.

“You know I’m not going to break up with Will,” Blaine said suddenly. It wasn’t as though Kurt had been expecting anything else, he hadn’t had much time to think about it anyway, but Blaine’s words still made him feel uncomfortable. Still, he nodded.

“I know. Decisions and discussions later, right?”

“Right.”

Blaine pulled away from him with an impish little grin and pressed their lips together. Kurt let Blaine maneuver him so his back was on the couch cushions with Blaine hovering over him, kissing along his jaw and his neck, his warm hands slipping beneath Kurt’s shirt and rubbing over his stomach. They left goosebumps in their wake and Kurt shivered.

“I love how responsive you are,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s giggle was breathless and of their own accord his hips swiveled up, rubbing against Blaine and the semi-hardness of the beginning of an erection in his jeans.

Blaine’s hands stayed on Kurt’s belly. He pressed and prodded and rubbed his thumbs in circles, all the time grinding in time with the little pumps of Kurt’s hips. He kissed him, hard, stuttered kisses that left them both breathless. The way Blaine seemed so fascinated with his stomach only served to further rob Kurt of the ability to draw in a decent amount of oxygen.

Blaine moved down Kurt’s body. He lifted his shirt and started kissing his belly, sometimes higher up, sometimes near his navel, sometimes even lower, just above the line of Kurt’s pants. Kurt watched this thoughtfully even as it made his pussy pulse with arousal.

“Can’t believe there’s a baby in there,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt’s skin.

Kurt pressed his lips together, then responded, “ _Your_ baby.”

Blaine looked up at him. As Kurt watched, Blaine’s eyes became darker. He crawled up Kurt’s body, looking like some sort of predatory animal, and latched his mouth onto Kurt’s neck. His hand snaked its way between Kurt’s thighs and he cupped his pussy, pressing gently, evoking a small moan.

“That’s fucking right,” he whispered. Kurt shuddered at the tone of his voice, the roughness, the possessiveness. His breath was hot on Kurt’s ear. There was so much more unsaid, so much filth on the tip of Blaine’s tongue that Kurt could _feel_ him holding back. It was too soon, too fresh. They’d only found out (Kurt for sure) less than two hours ago.

Beside that, it was nearly eight, and Will would be home soon. Blaine still had to take Kurt back to the school.

“I’ll make the appointment tomorrow and text you,” Blaine said as they pulled up next to Kurt’s Navigator in the school lot.

“I thought we couldn’t text during school,” Kurt teased, and in a childish act, stuck his tongue out. Blaine smothered it with a kiss.

“We can if it’s on _my_ terms,” he said with dark, mirthful eyes. Kurt’s grin was dopey and the heat between his legs was tremendous.

“Got it.” Kurt laughed to himself, shook his head, and then said, “’Night, Blaine.”

Blaine caught him in another kiss. “G’night, baby. Sleep well.”


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine made the appointment the following morning before class started. Never having had a girlfriend, his only knowledge when it came to gynecologists and obstetricians was from the girl friends he’d had in his life, and that wasn’t typically a subject they shared with him.

 

Assuming Kurt’s physician (if he had a physician—Jesus, he was still young enough to see a pediatrician, though Blaine doubted it, given the special treatment he would have received as a child due to his rare anatomy) was at Lima General (where Kurt had said he lived, though he went to school in Westerville), Blaine called there and made an appointment with an OB/GYN. The problem was that, while insurance covered that kind of visit entirely, Kurt would be on his dad’s insurance. That meant his dad would find out Kurt had been to the gynecologist.

But that didn’t have to be a huge problem. They could figure that out. Maybe he’d get lucky and Kurt’s last appointment had been a year ago and they could pass it off as a yearly checkup. Would he be allowed to do that at seventeen? Of course, right? Why not?

Blaine pushed a hand through his hair and wiped the sweat from the screen of his phone which had accumulated there as he’d made the appointment. It was this coming Saturday afternoon; he hoped Kurt didn’t have plans.

And if he did, well. They could reschedule.

Class with Kurt was difficult, but not for the same reason it once had been. Now it was difficult because he couldn’t stop looking at Kurt, dropping his eyes even though he couldn’t see his stomach through the desk (though he could certainly see underneath, where Kurt’s legs, wrapped in skin-tight jeans, were crossed one over the other, showing off his shapely thigh and a teasing side-view of his ass) and thinking,  _Baby, there’s a baby in there,_ my  _baby is growing in there._

And following that thought:  _Is it a girl? Is it a boy? Has it even grown enough to be one of the two yet? What_ will  _it be?_

That was where he stopped himself—the unintentional implication that Kurt would be giving birth to this baby.

 _Decisions later_.

Today was later. Maybe last night they’d both meant  _later_ , later, as in, I don’t know, maybe a week or a month or just how about never, how about we pretend this didn’t happen? But today Blaine had woken up with a resolution to get this done. Making the doctor appointment had fueled that determination and he had a plan for tonight. It was something he knew was inappropriate, but didn’t allow that to dwell too long at the forefront of his mind.

He’d gotten Kurt pregnant. That was inappropriate enough to cover all their bases.

When he texted Kurt the time and date of the appointment, he also told him to come to his classroom after school, though he had his suspicions that Kurt would have anyway.

A very warm feeling filled Blaine’s chest and he smiled without noticing he was doing so.

When Kurt walked into the classroom Blaine’s eyes were drawn magnetically, again, to his stomach. Kurt must have noticed, because his cheeks pinked and a hand lifted to his belly. Maybe it was bad Blaine found this so unimaginably attractive, but it didn’t  _feel_ bad. What it felt like was all the blood and warmth in his body draining south, and perhaps a little tingle of emotion, too, stored in that little cubbyhole at the back of his mind.

The one labeled “Feelings for Kurt.”

“How’re you feeling?” Blaine asked. He shuffled his papers and sorted them into a few different folders, then slid the folders into a briefcase and put the strap over his shoulder.

Kurt shrugged one shoulder up indifferently. “I’m alright,” he said. “Queasy this morning, but it’s passed. I ate lunch.”

 _Of course it would have passed_ , Blaine thought, _because it was morning sickness._

He motioned with his head for Kurt to close the door. Kurt did so and went over to Blaine’s desk, leaning against it with a demure little smirk.

“You wanted to see me?” he teased. Blaine’s smile was huge. He was helpless against it and the way he lifted his hands to Kurt’s hips, looking up at him with what he could never know for himself were adoring eyes.

“I did,” he said. “First I wanted to confirm Saturday afternoon.”

“I told you,” Kurt said with a nod, “I texted you that it was fine. I can postpone my plans with Rachel for later that night.”

Blaine gave him a toothy grin. “I know. I was just making sure.” He looked around, contemplated the open windows which led only to the courtyard, which was deserted at the end of the school day. He then hauled Kurt closer, so he was standing between his legs.

“And was that all?”

“Not all,” Blaine laughed. He put on a charming smile which had gotten him laid more than his fair share of times in college, looked up at Kurt, and said, “How would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

Kurt’s reaction was gorgeous. His face turned bright red and his usually haughty demeanor turned into something softer, something shy and beautiful that warmed Blaine’s heart.

“We did have dinner together—”

“Not at my apartment,” Blaine said, smile transforming into a smirk meant to tease, make Kurt redder if he could. “Out, I mean. How would you like to go  _out_  with me?”

Kurt pressed his lips together. He looked surprised, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all.

“You mean, like…”

“Yeah,” Blaine breathed into the air between them.

The word “date” hung unspoken in the air, tangible and exciting and terrifying. Terrifying mostly for Blaine, who was so conscious of the things the word “date” entailed. The things it implied even more so.

But more terrifying even than that was the enormous lack of guilt he felt. There was a little bit there, of course there was, but not enough. Not by far or wide or large, and did he care?

 Just not enough, it seemed.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. His little grin had Blaine’s stomach conjuring up a storm of butterflies, a sensation he hadn’t been familiar with since maybe junior year of high school.

Since Will, he corrected himself. He must have felt that same sensation when he’d first started dating Will.

He didn’t let it bother him, too absorbed in Kurt’s presence.

“Alright,” Blaine said with an uncontainable smile. He laughed, brought on by some unnamed emotion between disbelief and excitement. Pleasant surprise came close, but was not ardent enough by miles. “Excellent. Anywhere you’d like to go?”

* * *

Kurt tried to be humble, but Blaine didn’t feel like letting him. After suggesting a local restaurant which was not only inadequate, in Blaine’s opinion, but would be teeming with people who knew their faces, he tried a modestly-priced steakhouse, but Blaine shook his head. They were in the car, and he’d just merged onto the highway.

“Fleming’s,” he said, and Kurt’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.

“Blaine, are you serious? Absolutely not, do you know how expensive that is?”

The same domesticity that had pervaded the kitchen when Kurt had been making dinner filled the car now and Blaine let himself drown in it, everything about it. It even had a smell, made up of a combination of their colognes, the air freshener, and the wind blowing through the half-open window on Blaine’s side. It was definitely autumn now, but Blaine loved the feel of the rushing air on his face.

Past boyfriends and friends alike had likened him to a dog. He didn’t necessarily disagree with that observation. One friend from high school, Paul, had once said to him, “Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna find a tail wagging behind you.”

Also, a boyfriend or two had once or twice mentioned that his possessiveness and temperament (both in and out if bed) could rival a bloodhound’s.

“Uh, yes, I know how expensive it is,” Blaine intoned, but his voice was teasing. Kurt tried again to argue but Blaine held a hand up to hush him which, he was quite pleased to find, worked effectively. Kurt’s arms folded over his chest and he slumped in his seat, but there was a pleased smile fighting against his lips.

When they arrived, they had to wait only ten minutes to be seated (having made it just before the dinner-rush would arrive, frantic for their seventy-dollar Prime New York Ribs and North Atlantic Lobster Tails and sixty-dollar wine-bottles, followed of course by crème brûlée and carrot cake, twenty-to-thirty dollars apiece).

Okay, so Blaine had a trust fund. But he was also making good (great) money teaching at a private school, and he and Will had gotten lucky with their apartment, which was a gorgeous and modestly-priced one-bedroom a few suburbs down from Westerville right on the main strip above a bakery and a locally-owned coffee shop.

He could see Kurt settle in as though he did this all the time, but he doubted it very much. From what he’d heard of the rumors that circulated incessantly about Kurt around Dalton, his dad owned a garage. He had yet to hear about Kurt’s mom. Maybe she was a housewife. Certainly that didn’t afford them to frequent fancy places like this one. Blaine never made a habit of it and he was looking at the multi-millions when his parents died.

He watched Kurt spread the napkin over his lap and take the menus they were given, which included a separate one for wine. The waiter looked a bit suspicious of Kurt, but handed him one anyway. Blaine had a feeling that, were they to order wine, they’d both be carded.

But Kurt wasn’t having wine anyway.

Baby.

This thought made Blaine smirk to himself.

“What are you smiling about?” Kurt asked, voice full of good humor and excitement.

“I’m just glad you let me take you out,” he told Kurt, who blushed and shook his head in response.

“Well I’m very glad you asked me.”

Kurt took a sip of the water they’d been given upon being seated, but Blaine could see the pink cheeks he was trying to cover up behind it.

“Do you go out a lot?” Blaine asked, eyes dipping to the napkin Kurt had put on his lap and the manners inherent in that gesture.

“Oh,” Kurt laughed. He shook his head before continuing. “No, I just…” He shrugged a shoulder and cocked his head, one side of his mouth pulling up into a small but lovely smile. “My mom, she used to love this stuff.” He gestured to the table, all the silverware ( _real_  silver). “Dining etiquette,” he clarified. “And she was big on manners. My friends’ parents used to always tell me I was so polite.” He chuckled at a memory and then added, “I loved having tea parties, too, when I was little. We’d have them together.”

It came to Blaine slowly, bit by bit, the realization that Kurt was using the past tense when he was talking not just about his childhood, but about his mother as well. Past Kurt’s smile, he could see the sadness beneath. It was almost a nostalgic smile, but in a much sadder way that Blaine felt lucky until now never to have seen before. But then, he’d never known anybody with a dead parent. He hoped his friends’ parents wouldn’t start dying for another few decades.

Of course, this case obviously wasn’t old age. Something had happened to Kurt’s mom. Some time when he’d been very young, his mom had died.

The waiter came back to take their drink orders and when he left, Blaine scooted closer in the little corner booth they’d gotten for coming early.

“What happened to her?” he said quietly. Kurt sipped his water again and then turned to look at Blaine.

“She died when I was eight,” said Kurt. “It was stupid, really.” His laugh was humorless and filled with deep regret. “We were going to my birthday party, I was having it at a nice restaurant—” Kurt grinned sadly and looked around at the irony, “—and my mom, she went separately from my dad and me because she still had to wrap my gift, but I wanted to get going. So my dad took me and my mom was gonna meet us.”

Blaine’s stomach dropped with the halt in Kurt’s speech.

“She never got there,” he guessed, his voice hardly above a whisper. Kurt nodded.

“For a long time, I felt like it was my fault. I couldn’t have just _waited_.” Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt cut him off with a hand. “I don’t think that anymore,” he said. He squirmed a bit in his seat, then seemed to settle. “It’s been hard, but I’ve had nine—almost ten years to cope, and beyond that, my dad is the greatest dad in the world.” He smiled, and Blaine smiled unconsciously in response. “There’s no need to talk about my mom. Not now, at least. My dad has been everything I’ve ever needed and so much more.”

Blaine couldn’t help himself when he took Kurt’s hand and kissed the back of it, earning a blush in return. A blush he liked quite a lot. “I hope I’ll be just as awesome of a dad.”

It hit both of them at once. In unison, they looked down at Kurt’s belly, not yet showing even the slightest tell-tale bump. When they looked up at each other, something was there that hadn’t been before. An energy Blaine felt as clearly as he felt the warm skin of Kurt’s hand.

The waiter came with their drinks (Blaine’s, because Kurt had elected for just water) and Blaine dropped Kurt’s hand, although he did so slowly, almost reluctantly, and Kurt kept his gaze down as a Diet Coke was set down in front of Blaine.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked, looking at them in turn. They glanced at one another, realizing simultaneously that they’d been too busy talking to even peek at the menu. Kurt looked a little startled, like he’d forgotten they were in public, and Blaine took pity on him.

He caught Kurt’s eye in a questioning glance before telling the waiter they were ready. He ordered two entrees, looking at Kurt for a nod of approval before settling on them. Dinner had, it seemed, turned less into dinner and more into a date.

Childishly, the only thing Blaine thought in response to this realization was,  _Whoops._

He liked learning about Kurt. It wasn’t just the connection of the pregnancy (which, of course, was a deeply contributing factor), but he found him interesting. He was funny, and cute, and his laugh was adorable. Plus, he knew from class that Kurt was also intellectually stimulating.

He watched Kurt play idly with the napkin in his lap for a few moments, taking in his profile, the point of his nose and his pretty, high cheekbones. Blaine’s gaze continued south, past his collarbones (covered up beneath a shirt now) to his stomach, inside of which a baby was growing.

 _His_ baby. Blaine’s baby.

Beneath that—the most delicious pussy Blaine had ever had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with so intimately.

And that fast, his cock was stiff and pressing against the zipper of his pants.

He scooted closer to Kurt, so their thighs were touching. Near Kurt he could smell a hint of some androgynous cologne that did nothing to quell his suddenly raging libido. Blaine wasn’t a teenager anymore, but damn, when he saw something he liked.

And fucking Christ, did he like.

When his hand landed on Kurt’s thigh, Kurt looked up at him with wide eyes, both shocked and—yes, definitely turned on. The kid was a fucking minx.

“Blaine,” he said in a low voice, in some odd way both warning and encouraging. Perhaps both.

_Do it. But for crying out loud, be careful._

Blaine’s fingers were deft as he unbuttoned Kurt’s pants and pulled the zipper down, slipping smoothly inside. His hand cupped Kurt’s pussy, hot and already throbbing. With his longest finger he could feel the slightest hint of a forming wet spot in front of Kurt’s hole. He pressed up with his finger and Kurt let out a breath that made Blaine chuckle under his breath. This was going to be fun. He leaned into Kurt’s ear as his fingers began to rub up and down his pussy, alternating between teasing, soft strokes and pressing hard enough to part his lips, getting the material of his underwear soaked.

“Shh,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s breath hitched and he swallowed, but nodded. One of his hands was gripping Blaine’s bicep so hard the nails pinched through the skin. The other was gripping the napkin, now bunched up at his side with his legs spread open for Blaine’s hand. “You want me to make you come, baby?” Blaine said in a low whisper.

A barely-audible moan in Kurt’s throat and he bucked his hips.

Blaine, semi-conscious of their surroundings, nipped at Kurt’s earlobe as he slid his fingers beneath Kurt’s panties, letting his middle finger rest against Kurt’s parted slit. His clit was so swollen he could feel it against the bottom of his finger where it met his palm. The tip of that same finger teased at Kurt’s hole, slipping in and out, but never enough. Kurt began squirming and Blaine could tell how much effort he was putting into keeping still. God, he was so fucking hot, his cheeks flushed just as red as his pussy probably was, too.

Blaine had to stifle a whimper of his own at the image that thought produced.

“You’re a needy little slut, you know that?” he murmured against Kurt’s neck. His finger pushed further in and he could see Kurt clenching his jaw, trying not to make a sound. “You want my cock so bad your pussy’s always nice and dripping wet for me.”

“Blaine,” Kurt rasped. Blaine hushed him again.

“I’ve got you,” he cooed. “I’m gonna take care of that needy cunt for you, baby, don’t worry. Stay quiet.”

He sat straight again and kept his finger going beneath the table, pushing all the way in now. It was an awkward angle and it made his wrist sore quickly, but he wasn’t about to stop. He shoved another finger in and a squeak escaped Kurt’s lips.

Kurt was so wet his fingers were starting to make squelching noises every time Blaine fucked into him. Luckily they were the only ones that could hear, but fuck, it was hot. He used his palm to grind against Kurt’s clit and Kurt’s hips started to pump with Blaine’s hand; tiny, jerking thrusts that hardly moved his torso.

He was gonna come, Blaine could feel him on the edge when the waiter came back.

Blaine stopped with his fingers buried deep inside Kurt’s pussy. Because he was apparently feeling audacious tonight, he continued rubbing his palm over Kurt’s clit.

The entrees came with salads, so the waiter had brought them out first. He settled the bowls down in front of them, totally ignorant to what was happening five feet in front of him. Blaine loved the way Kurt couldn’t stop fidgeting, loved the way he could feel his pussy clenching and twitching.

“Thank you,” Blaine said with his biggest smile once the waiter had set down oil and vinegar for their dressings. All the while, his hand never stopped moving. As soon as the waiter walked away, Blaine pushed a third finger into Kurt’s cunt and fucked him with them hard enough that Kurt shoved his face into Blaine’s neck to muffle his moan when he came. It gushed out all over Blaine’s fingers, soaking Kurt’s pants and probably getting on the booth beneath them wet as well.

Kurt’s teeth could possibly leave bruises on Blaine’s neck, but he wasn’t worried about that now. Kurt’s jaw finally relaxed and he panted against Blaine’s shoulder, swallowing again and again, trying to get his breathing back to normal. Blaine slowly, carefully, removed his hand from Kurt’s panties and delicately wiped them on his napkin. Kurt let out a breathless laugh of disbelief, looked down at his crotch, and then seemed to decide to use his own napkin the same way. He cleaned himself up as best he could and then, after looking at the piece of cloth doubtfully, laid it on the seat.

“We just can’t ever come back here,” he told Blaine. Blaine swooped in and kissed Kurt’s cheek.

“Was it worth it?” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. He felt Kurt shudder. Instead of responding verbally, he did something that touched Blaine in a strange way. He took Blaine’s hand, placed it over his stomach and then looked up at him. Their eyes locked. He had a sense, suddenly, that his question had become a double-entendre.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “It was.”


	10. Chapter 10

It was seven o’clock when they left Fleming’s. Kurt’s face was bright red as they left. Passing the staff with a straight face and knowing whoever cleaned up their table would surely find a wet spot, and almost certainly share the information with the rest of the staff, was not an easy feat.

 

“Yeah, definitely not coming back here,” Kurt said once they’d gone outside and were headed toward Blaine’s car. Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt’s and whatever color had drained from Kurt’s cheeks came rushing back. Unconsciously but rather fondly, Kurt placed a hand on his belly.

Blaine held the passenger door open and Kurt laughed. “What a gentleman.” Blaine gave him a devilish smirk in response.

They held hands the entire ride back to the school and Kurt’s car. Even though his palms were sweaty, Kurt wouldn’t have pulled away for the world. He was very aware of the feelings he was beginning to develop, but he was telling himself adamantly that it didn’t matter. First, there were the hormones to consider; of course he was feeling affectionate toward the father of his baby.

 _His baby._ It was still so foreign, such a crazy concept: a baby inside of him.

When they parked beside Kurt’s car, Blaine turned the engine off. Kurt tensed, shoulders drawing up. He found himself picking at his cuticles, a terrible habit he’d been trying to break since he’d realized he wanted his hands to look nice (which was around the time he’d asked for sensible heels for Christmas). Kurt had had a feeling this “date” had been more than just that, more than just dinner for the hell of it, even though he’d hoped, begun to let himself warm up to that conclusion when Blaine hadn’t brought up  _the subject_ at all while they’d been at the restaurant.

For fuck’s sake, he’d fucked him with his fingers under the table. That was about as far away from a serious discussion as you could get.

“You wanna talk,” Kurt said before Blaine could even open his mouth. Blaine looked down at his lap and back up at Kurt, gazing intently at him. The moon was shining in through the window on Kurt’s side and it made Blaine’s eyes sparkle. Kurt’s stomach did an involuntary swoop.

“We have to,” Blaine said dejectedly. “This isn’t just, you know…something that can be put off. I mean, we’ve gotta deal with this, Kurt.” He sighed and slid a hand through his hair, a gesture Kurt had noticed meant Blaine was nervous, something he found entirely endearing, especially when it messed his hair up, leaving it pushed back from his forehead. “The appointment’s on Saturday, but I think leaving decisions until then is a bad idea.”

Kurt let out a slow breath and slumped a bit in his seat, his expression one of reluctant acceptance.

“Maybe we should stop saying ‘decisions,’ then, and just put the question on the table.”

He looked at Blaine, who was chewing on his bottom lip. Kurt knew he’d put the weight of posing the question on Blaine’s shoulders, but he just couldn’t do it himself. Blaine was the “adult” here, after all, and Kurt was going to take advantage of that. Besides, he was the one carrying the baby. That was enough responsibility in itself.

Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stared forward, out the windshield, and seemed to contemplate something for a minute. Finally, he turned back to Kurt.

“Are you keeping the baby?” he said softly. Kurt’s stomach twisted and tied itself up into a thousand impossible knots.

“What are your thoughts?” he answered, shifting the weight back onto Blaine again. He’d known this would be a difficult discussion—just how difficult, though, he hadn’t anticipated.

Blaine pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“Shit, Kurt, I dunno.” He sounded exasperated, and when he pulled his hands away, there were red marks around his eyes, making him look tired and older than he was. “Are you…I mean…Jesus. There’s so many factors here, Kurt. There’s a million of them. I can’t even…” Blaine trailed off and laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head at the roof of the car. He put the index finger of one hand out and touched it with the other, “One, you’re a minor. And I mean…that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” He held out a second finger: “Two, I have a boyfriend. Which…” Again, he shook his head. “I’m not even going to start on that right now. Three,  _your_  future; a baby  _will_ impede your plans, whatever they are. Four…it comes back to Will, the fact that I have a boyfriend, I can’t…I can’t _publicly_ help you take care of a kid, and not  _just_ because of Will, either. Then there’s your dad.” Blaine trailed off after his small rant and Kurt’s whole stomach sank at the mention of his father. He’d thought about his dad, of course he had, but every time he did he felt like throwing up. His dad would be  _so disappointed_. Not just pregnant, not just with a guy in his mid-twenties, my  _teacher_ , dad, my  _teacher_ got me pregnant.

“I get it,” Kurt said softly. “It’s a really, really big deal.” His hand went to his stomach again and he looked down, imagining the baby growing in there. His stomach turned again.

A couple minutes passed in silence. Blaine kept looking back and forth between the steering wheel, Kurt’s face, and Kurt’s stomach. Kurt couldn’t discern his expression. Blaine looked troubled, that was all he could say with certainty.

“Do you wanna keep it?” Blaine asked finally, and his voice was just above a whisper. “What do  _you_ want, Kurt? It’s your body.” He paused and then added, “Whatever you wanna do, I’ll help you out however I can and however I have to. Okay?”

The moon was making his green eyes sparkle again and Kurt felt something unrelated to anxiety or his pregnant condition bubble in his chest. Emotion he wasn’t willing to analyze or identify.

“Yeah,” Kurt croaked. He cleared his throat, nodded, and repeated, “Yeah. Thank you.”

Blaine leaned over and turned Kurt’s head with a gentle hand on his chin. They looked into one another’s eyes for several seconds, sharing things that couldn’t (and in some cases wouldn’t) be vocalized. Then Blaine was kissing him, soft and sweet and with his heightened hormones and emotions, Kurt couldn’t help the small sob that wracked his body, nor the tear that leaked from the corner of one eye. Blaine must have felt it on his own cheek, because he pulled away half an inch and used a thumb to wipe it away.

Did he want to keep it? Sort of. Maybe. The idea had grown on him in the past few days while he’d been thinking about it. A  _baby_. Like Blaine had said, there was so much that went into it, so many factors. He wouldn’t be able to go straight to design school, that much was guaranteed. And Blaine—god, it could ruin Blaine’s life. His boyfriend would find out he’d been cheating. He’d have to pay child support. And if anyone put it together and figured out the child had been conceived before Kurt was of age, Blaine could go to jail. He’d have to register as a sex offender.

Was there a selfish part of Kurt that wanted to keep the baby, and keep Blaine, too?

  
Yes. Absolutely. But as the euphemism went, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. If Kurt was to have the baby, he’d be setting himself back—but it was nothing to the way it would affect Blaine.

Blaine’s hand was rubbing over Kurt’s thigh in soothing back and forth motions. Another tear tracked down Kurt’s cheek.

“No,” he said eventually. He swallowed, found it difficult, then said it again, louder and clearer. “No. I’m not gonna keep it.”

Blaine stared at him for seconds that seemed like hours. Kurt couldn’t say whether there was disappointment or relief on Blaine’s face. Maybe both.

His hand moved to Kurt’s cheek, cupping it and forcing their eyes to meet again.

“Is that what you really want?”

Kurt said yes, but his hesitation, and probably his expression, was more than enough to tell Blaine he was lying, at least partially. He didn’t say anything, though. It was the responsible decision. He wanted desperately to know Blaine’s opinion, but fought against asking. Blaine looked conflicted and guilty enough as it was. If any part of him wanted Kurt to keep the baby, Kurt wouldn’t make him say it out loud.

Blaine nodded, and then breathed out hard through his nose. He put his hands on the steering wheel, letting them hang by his fingertips, and stared forward, through the windshield.

“We’ll talk to the doctor on Saturday,” he said. His voice was hoarse. Kurt didn’t let himself dwell on it. “See what our options are at this stage. It’s early, you may be able to just take that new pill.”

Kurt, stomach rolling, raised an eyebrow. “It’s too late for Plan B.”

Blaine shook his head. “No, there’s this new thing. One of my friends just had to have an abortion and her doctor had her take these pills. You take one at the office, and then take another, like, seventy-two hours later or something. I dunno. But it…it gets rid of the baby. She said it was easy, but the cramps were…” Trailing off, Blaine grimaced. He looked at Kurt sadly. “She said they were, uh…pretty damn bad.”

Kurt swallowed. Shrugged. “That’s okay,” he said, and the resolution he’d attempted to put in his answer didn’t sound convincing even to himself. “Easier than a hanger, right?”

Neither even cracked a smile.

Several more silent seconds passed.

Blaine broke it: “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He leaned forward, hesitated, then closed the distance and kissed Kurt’s cheek. “Drive safe, okay?”

Kurt nodded but said nothing. Blaine squeezed his hand before Kurt gathered the strength to hop out of the car and climb into his own. The conversation had left him with weak limbs and a heavy feeling in his stomach. Even after Blaine pulled out of the parking lot, Kurt sat there for fifteen minutes, thinking and dwelling and waiting for his hands to stop shaking so much.

* * *

Saturday came much too quickly.

“I’m going out with Rachel,” Kurt told his dad, putting his coat on and swinging his bag over his shoulder. His stomach was twisting and turning and climbing into his throat then dropping like he was on a roller coaster. All morning he’d been unsettled, unable to even eat breakfast, which he’d just made for his dad. He’d woken up at seven, two hours earlier than he normally did on weekends, and had not been capable of falling back asleep.

The appointment wasn’t until the afternoon, but he didn’t want to hang around the house. Being around Burt only made him more nervous, and beyond that, the guilt felt like bile in his throat.

Or maybe that was actual bile.

He’d puked already, about an hour after he’d woken up. Even though he was still nauseous, his stomach was finally settling. It was hard to separate the nausea of morning sickness from the nausea of fear and nerves, though, and his hand was pressing into his stomach as he walked out the door around nine, his dad sitting at the kitchen table eating a bagel thin and scrambled egg whites with a newspaper spread open in front of him, totally oblivious to the situation which felt to Kurt like a hurricane that had swept up his whole life into it.

“Be home for dinner,” his dad said. Kurt nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, and slipped out the front door. He took a deep, calming breath once he’d closed it behind him and sat down on the steps. He needed a moment before driving. The plan had been for Blaine to pick him up after Burt had left for the day to go to the garage, but Kurt was restless. He knew from Blaine that his boyfriend—Will, he reminded himself, _he’s a real person, he’s Blaine’s boyfriend_ —went to work at nine in the morning on Saturdays and stayed until six, when the dealership closed. That meant Will would already be gone.

He finally got in the car and paused a moment when he put his seatbelt on, looking at the strap over his belly, thinking about the baby. Every day it (he, she) felt more real. When would he start showing?

 _No_ , he reminded himself suddenly, forcefully. _No, I won’t show. I’m getting rid of it._

It. That was the best way to think of it. No need to use pronouns and get attached.

Following that thought was one he hadn’t had previously: did this mean he could get pregnant _again_? Was he fertile, capable of conceiving a child? Had it been a fluke? The notion made him nervous in a way he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to examine right now.

Blaine and Will’s apartment had parking behind the building for residents, and since Will was gone, Kurt parked beside Blaine’s Jetta. He wondered vaguely about Blaine’s background, where his money came from (because he obviously had money—he’d only been teaching about a month now, and private school or not, a month’s worth of paychecks didn’t pay for an apartment like this one or what Kurt knew to be a 2014 Volkswagen Jetta, probably new when he’d gotten it). Kurt would have bet his right hand there wasn’t more than five thousand miles on that car, all from Blaine. He wondered, too, about Blaine’s past. He realized for the first time they hadn’t spoken about Blaine at all. It had just been question after question about Kurt’s life that night at dinner, and if they weren’t talking about him, they were talking about other things…or _doing_ other things, for that matter.

Everything but talk about Blaine and his life and his past.

He went up to the apartment and Blaine opened the door with a confused look on his face, probably thinking it was Will, perhaps having forgotten something. It took him a moment or two, but finally a stern look crossed his face. That look reminded Kurt of when Blaine was in teaching mode. However, there was a grin fighting through, and it made Kurt feel warm all over.

“Hi,” he said sheepishly. “I, uh…didn’t wanna be at home anymore. I hope it’s okay I came over.”

Blaine let out a sigh and finally allowed his smile to show, ushering Kurt inside and closing the door behind him. He put a hand on Kurt’s cheek and planted a soft kiss on his mouth.

“Of course it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against Kurt’s lips. “We just have to be careful.” His thumb swept over Kurt’s cheek, back and forth, their lips brushing, noses touching. Kurt thought if it was possible for a heart to melt, his would be in that process this very moment. He led Kurt into the kitchen, where a bowl sat on the table with a few soggy Cheerios floating in an inch of sugary milk. Blaine, always the gentleman, held a chair out for Kurt, “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

Kurt’s stomach rumbled unpleasantly and he felt the bile rise in his throat again. He held a hand up.

“I’m okay,” he said, sounding quite nauseous. Blaine looked at him sympathetically and sat down. His hand landed on Kurt’s back and he rubbed soothing circles.

“Feeling okay? Just morning sickness, or are you nervous?”

Kurt sighed and, in what was becoming a habitual gesture, put a hand on his stomach. “Little of both.”

Blaine nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m just gonna eat something ‘cause I’m starving and we’ve got—” he looked at his watch, “—I dunno, it’s just about ten, like an hour before we should leave. It’ll take us about forty-five minutes to get to there. I mapped it, it’s at the further end of Lima—” Kurt nodded, hand still on his belly, “—and the appointment’s at noon. Doctors always take forever, of course, but you’ll probably have to fill stuff out, so we may as well get there a little early.”

Kurt smiled. Of course Blaine was meticulous. “You want me to make you something to eat?”

Blaine paused in the act of taking a red box out of the freezer, one of those frozen breakfast sandwiches, Kurt saw. He looked over his shoulder at Kurt with his head cocked and his eyebrows furrowed.

“But aren’t you…?” He gestured vaguely at Kurt, probably meaning a whole slew of things in that sweep of his hand. _Aren’t you feeling sick? Nauseous? Tired?_ Kurt chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s alright.” He stood and went to Blaine, taking the box from him and setting it back inside the freezer. “Go ahead, sit down. I’m gonna make you breakfast.”

“Kurt—”

Kurt raised a hand to silence him and heard the sound of Blaine’s teeth clacking together as he shut his mouth.

“I want to. Really.” Blaine still looked uncertain; Kurt sighed theatrically and pushed him into a chair, forcing him to sit.

“Okay, but if you get nauseous, or light-headed, or—”

Kurt spun around from the open refrigerator with a wide grin on his face. “ _Blaine_ ,” he laughed. “I’m fine. Lemme make you breakfast, honey.”

Kurt’s face filled immediately with brilliant color and he swallowed hard, looking away from Blaine and down at the floor, his eyes wide. _That_ had slipped out. Blaine called him baby all the time, but…it felt different, somehow. He didn’t dare look to see what Blaine’s expression was; instead, he swallowed again and went back to what he was doing, moving past it, refusing to dwell. It didn’t have to mean anything. _Couldn’t_ mean anything, he reminded himself. Because Kurt was going to have an abortion and Blaine had a boyfriend and a _life_ and for god’s sake, he was Kurt’s _teacher_. There was no room for _honey_ or the feelings and emotions inherent in the word.

He made scrambled eggs (using the whole egg instead of just the egg whites like he did for his dad), toasted a bagel, smearing it with cream cheese, and found some bacon to fry in a pan with vegetable oil. When he set it down on the table with a glass of orange juice, he finally found the nerve to catch Blaine’s eye, and he found that Blaine was smiling at him gently, almost adoringly. His eyes (which had looked green in the moonlight) were now hazel, and Kurt could see the flecks of brown and gold in them.

“Thank you,” Blaine said, his voice soft and breathy. Kurt gave him a cheeky grin and went to wash his hands in the sink before joining Blaine at the table with just a glass of milk (almond milk, and he wondered whether that was Blaine’s or Will’s choice).

“My pleasure.”

* * *

Kurt’s dad’s insurance was on file, so all Kurt had to fill out was paperwork concerning the appointment and its purpose. He felt like he was in a dream as the pencil moved across the paper, answering questions about his family medical history, but when he came to the bit where he had to check off the things he wanted from the appointment today, the mark he made in the box labeled “ultrasound” was shaky and skewed. Blaine must have noticed, because his hand slipped around Kurt’s waist where they sat on a small couch in the waiting room.

“Am I getting blood done?” he whispered to Blaine, feeling at once like a child and much older than his actual age.

Blaine shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you probably should. We’re gonna tell your dad this was an annual checkup, right?” He paused and his eyebrows threaded. “Or…I dunno, do they usually do blood work at a gynecologist visit?”

Without another word, Kurt finished the form and slipped the pencil inside the metal attachment on the clipboard with a heavy sigh.

“My annual doctor’s visit usually encompasses everything,” he told Blaine. “It’s been that way forever, you know, ‘cause of my…” He looked down at his lap and then back up, shrugging one shoulder and looking for the right words. He settled on, “ _Unusual anatomy_ ,” with a roll of his eyes.

Blaine leaned close, his breath hot on Kurt’s neck, and whispered, “Watch it, I’m pretty fond of that anatomy.”

Kurt blushed furiously. He swatted Blaine’s knee, who laughed, then stood to bring the paperwork back to the woman behind the desk. She was a rather grumpy older lady with a haircut Kurt guessed she hadn’t changed since the early fifties.

They sat another fifteen or twenty minutes, Blaine rubbing Kurt’s back while Kurt played around idly with his phone. It was only ten minutes past noon when Kurt’s doctor—Doctor Hayner—came into the waiting room and found Kurt almost immediately.

“Hey, Kurt,” he said, his smile wide and warm. Some of the tension in Kurt’s body eased. Thank god he had a good doctor. He’d always liked Doctor Hayner. He was just a plain old _good_ guy. Down to earth and sympathetic toward his patients, easy to talk to. _Safe_ to talk to. Kurt had always felt comfortable discussing his vagina and the anatomy that went along with it with Doctor Hayner. And even though he was a minor, which technically meant the doctor could share anything with a parent or legal guardian, Kurt didn’t think he would, not if he didn’t want him to.

And boy was there a lot to share if he did. Not just pregnant, not just with an older guy, but his _teacher_. He tried to imagine his dad getting that phone call and quickly dismissed it. Thinking about that would only frazzle him. Besides, he’d never have to find out.

Abortion.

He told Doctor Hayner it was okay for Blaine to come in, and though Blaine got an odd, slightly mistrustful look, he was allowed with Kurt’s consent.

They were taken into a room that looked like every other Kurt had ever been in. There was the chair with the stirrups for gynecological visits (and a screen beside it, one which Kurt had never had to use before), the doctor’s desk, cluttered with unnamable tools and gadgets. There was the chair where he’d sat a million times before to get his blood drawn. The paper-covered bed, where Kurt had always gotten his blood pressure taken, had his heart listened to, his ears and eyes examined. There was the scale.

That’s where they started.

“Well, you’ve gained weight,” Doctor Hayner said, marking it on his clipboard. “Last time I saw you was—” he lifted the top piece of paper, glanced at the one beneath, then let it drop back down, “—about five months ago.” He stuck his pen behind his ear and looked straight at Kurt. “So unless you’ve changed your diet, I’d say the pregnancy test you said you took was accurate.”

Kurt and Blaine glanced at one another without a word. Doctor Hayner watched this, then said, “Let’s do the ultrasound.”

He asked Kurt a lot of questions as he was setting it up. Questions about his sexual activity outside of Blaine, to which he was relieved to be able to respond that there _was_ no outside sexual activity with the exception of some kissing and touching and feeling. There were questions about his period, when his last one occurred, when he realized he’d missed a period, when he’d taken the test. Embarrassing questions about his and Blaine’s sex life, how often, how recently, how many times without a condom.

Doctor Hayner dug further, too. He wasn’t vocal about his disappointment in the both of them for the situation they’d gotten themselves into, but his face said enough. His doctor never asked if Blaine had a significant other, and Kurt wondered whether it was because he assumed they were together, as immoral (and illegal) as that might be.

The jelly Doctor Hayner put on his stomach was as cold as the movies always made it out to be and the machine roving over the surface of his skin felt strange. Blaine was beside him, holding his hand, when they found the baby.

Just an embryo, the sex not even distinguishable yet, but there it was. Kurt could see the shape of the head, the curved back, the teeny, barely-formed legs and arms.

The doctor was smiling at the picture in spite of himself, but when he looked around at Kurt and Blaine, it slipped off his face. Both were staring at the picture on the screen like they’d never seen anything like it before.

And they hadn’t. Nothing even comparable. That was their baby. A baby they’d made together, growing inside Kurt’s body, just a few weeks into its developmental stages. Kurt couldn’t swallow. His mouth had gone completely dry. Alternately, his palms were sweating like he’d dipped them in water. Blaine, too. Or maybe that was just his own sweat rubbing off. It was impossible to tell.

Doctor Hayner did a few familiar things after the ultrasound. There was the pap smear, and he felt around inside Kurt’s vagina, pressing on his walls. Kurt held Blaine’s hand the whole time, though he’d done this a million times.

He’d never been pregnant while it was being done before.

Kurt had a few routine things done, blood pressure, heart rate, etc. He got his blood drawn. It was then that Doctor Hayner told Kurt and Blaine to sit in the office and wait. As Kurt knew, his case was a special one. They’d told Doctor Hayner their decision—to get rid of the baby—but Kurt hadn’t liked the look on his face when they’d told him this.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Blaine told him, his thumb rubbing circles into Kurt’s hand. “Like he said, it’s just different in your case.”

The doctor came back a full twenty minutes later. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Well,” Doctor Hayner began, and Blaine gripped Kurt’s hand more tightly, “good news is the baby looks healthy as far as we can tell at this point, and you’re healthy as well. It’ll take about a week for the blood results to come back and we’ll give you a call about that.” He stopped, and here he drew in a breath, then let it out slowly through his nose. “Listen, Kurt. It’s a…scientific anomaly that you got pregnant in the first place. You know how little is documented about cases like yours, and by that I mean men with female genitalia. The percentage of that population that has actually gotten pregnant is point-oh-five percent.”

Kurt and Blaine gaped at Doctor Hayner, whose cheeks adopted a very faint pink flush.

“You said you wanted to have an abortion.”

Both hesitated before looking at each other and then nodding slowly in unison. Doctor Hayner looked at them [with his], eyebrows drawn for a moment before continuing. He sat forward in his chair, clipboard in his lap, sympathy written in every wrinkle on his face in spite of his feelings toward their situation.

“I’m afraid it would be _extremely_ dangerous, Kurt,” he said finally. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand. Kurt said nothing. His chest heaved with his heavy breathing and he began to feel light-headed. He wasn’t sure he could speak. Thankfully, Blaine did it for him.

“Dangerous how?” he said in a croaky voice that wasn’t his own.

Doctor Hayner sat back in his swivel chair and sighed. He seemed to finally have accepted Blaine’s presence and looked at him when he spoke.

“We don’t know enough about Kurt’s anatomy. There are a total of _ten_ documented cases in the last fifty years of male pregnancies.” He paused. His adam’s apple bobbed. “Not one of them had an abortion.” He let this sink in, then went on, “We have no idea how Kurt’s body would react to an abortion, whether it was the pill, like you’d mentioned, or any other method. It could cause irreparable harm to him.” Again, he paused. It was a grave silence, and Kurt wasn’t surprised at what came out of the doctor’s mouth next, though it still shook him. “Kurt, it could feasibly kill you.”

* * *

“You’re not taking that fucking chance, Kurt!” Blaine shouted, tossing one of the couch cushions across the room, causing it to hit a lamp, which fell and shattered on the floor. Kurt, who had been standing with his feet planted, yelling right back, crossed his arms over his chest and folded in on himself. Tears had been steadily sliding down his cheeks since they left the hospital an hour an half ago. Now they came faster. Kurt slid into the armchair beside the couch and buried his face in his hands, finally letting himself sob. He heard Blaine sigh, and then felt his presence beside him, sitting on the arm of the chair. A hand slid through Kurt’s hair as another sob wracked his body.

“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. A few moments of silence passed and then he maneuvered Kurt so he was sitting on Blaine’s lap, Blaine in the chair, arms folded tightly around Kurt’s middle. Kurt put his face in Blaine’s chest and continued to cry. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.” That same hand that had been in his hair made circles on Kurt’s back, letting him soak his shirt, rocking him in soothing motions.

When Kurt eventually lifted his head, his eyes were puffy and his face was red.

“I have to tr-try,” he said, shaking his head, more silent tears leaking down his cheeks. “I h- _have_ to, Blaine. I c-can’t just—” he hiccupped, continued, “— _have_ the baby. I…” But he broke down again, obscuring his face in Blaine’s shoulder.

“You’re not doing it, Kurt,” Blaine said. His voice was resolute, begged no arguments. It was his teacher voice. His _adult_ voice. Kurt found himself once more thankful to _have_ an adult. Especially now, with this news. He couldn’t have an abortion.

Well, he _could_. But it might kill him. Or cause “irreparable harm,” as Doctor Hayner had put it.

“What are you we gonna do?” Kurt said, and it was muffled in the material of Blaine’s shirt. He felt Blaine’s chest move as he breathed in and out deeply.

“We’re gonna figure it out,” said Blaine. His hand moved from Kurt’s back to his hair, and he ran his fingers through it. Blaine’s mouth was next to Kurt’s ear when he whispered, “We’re gonna figure this out, baby. I swear.”


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine sat with Kurt in his lap for half an hour, rubbing his back, letting his frazzled nerves simmer. Both had been running at high gears the whole day, from the anticipation of the visit to the visit’s unexpected conclusion and finally the information they’d had dumped on their heads like a bucket of ice cold water. Alone together in Blaine’s living room, they could finally begin to unwind. As they sat in the chair, Blaine felt his muscles physically relaxing, loosening, and Kurt’s body gradually drooped against him as well.  
  
It was nearing four when Kurt lifted his head from where he’d rested it against Blaine’s shoulder, nose buried in Blaine’s neck. He looked totally wiped out, and it made him appear even younger than seventeen. Kurt was just a kid, after all. A pregnant kid, sure, and a kid that Blaine was developing feelings for at a frighteningly rapid pace…but a kid nonetheless.  
  
He seemed on the verge of saying something, but a yawn cut him off and he brought a hand to his mouth to cover it. Blaine smiled to himself and pushed a hand through Kurt’s hair, eyes roaming over his flushed face. He kissed Kurt’s cheek. It was warm and there was the slightest hint of a salty taste from his earlier tears.  
  
“I wish I could have you stay for dinner,” he said softly. His hand moved to cup Kurt’s neck and his thumb moved back and forth across Kurt’s cheek. “Will gets home around five, though.”  
  
Kurt wiped delicately at his eyes and shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said, his voice scratchy. Blaine, unable to help himself, kissed Kurt’s cheek again. “My dad told me to be home for dinner anyway.” His smile was sweet and made Blaine’s heart clench. He kissed Blaine gently. “Thanks for taking me today. Even if it wasn’t quite what we expected.”  
  
Blaine took Kurt’s hand and raised it to his lips, brushing them over Kurt’s knuckles. “I’m gonna be with you the whole way, sweetheart.”  
  
Their eyes met and Blaine felt his stomach do a complicated flip-flop. He recalled earlier that morning, when Kurt had called him honey. It had made him positively jubilant.  
  
There was something there. He could no longer hide from or deny it; the feelings were too plain, too obvious to be ignored. He’d fallen for Kurt, and hard. It wasn’t a good thing, but it couldn’t be helped any more than Kurt’s pregnant condition could be helped at this point. Possibly both situations could have been avoided had they never fucked, but. Well. What was done was done.  
  
No use crying over spilled milk.  
  
Blaine grinned to himself and let out a short gust of laughter. Kurt grinned at him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.” Blaine shook his head, let his eyes roam greedily over Kurt’s young face, and then kissed him again. This one was both longer and deeper. It translated feelings Blaine couldn’t quite put into words right now. Kurt seemed happy to accept this medium of expression over talking. It was ten minutes later that Kurt pulled away from Blaine’s mouth with a wet sound that made him laugh.

“Jeez, I have to go.” He pecked Blaine’s lips and hopped off his lap, then took his hands and tugged. “C’mon, walk me outside!”

Blaine groaned loudly, putting all his weight down on the chair like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

“How are you a teacher?”

Blaine quit his theatrics and peered at Kurt through slitted eyes.

“I resent that.”

Kurt merely gave him a coy smile and spun around. Blaine watched him grab his coat and slip it gracefully over his arms and onto his shoulders. His shirt was low enough to grant Blaine clear visibility of the hollows of Kurt’s collarbones. He was visited by a strong, almost overwhelming urge to grab Kurt and drag him back to his and Will’s bedroom to fuck him until he screamed. Were it not for the time crunch, he thoughthe would have done it, too. Later, he would have reason to feel like a real jackass for even entertaining the idea.

For now, though, it brought a wicked smirk onto his face as he followed Kurt out of the apartment. He locked the door behind them and as they stepped into the elevator, he took Kurt’s hand. Kurt’s smile this time was soft and sweet and once again made him look even younger than he was. Blaine’s thumb made circles over Kurt’s knuckles. His heart felt strangely too big for his chest and his stomach was in knots, only not in an entirely bad way. Just…a new way.

They were standing outside Kurt’s car when Blaine slipped his arms around Kurt’s waist and pulled him close, until their noses were nearly touching. He raised one hand, slowly at first, hesitant, and then landed it on Kurt’s stomach. His own flipped and flopped and somersaulted. At first Kurt didn’t say or do anything, but then his own hand covered Blaine’s.

 _My baby’s in there_ , he thought. And then following that: _our baby._ Our _baby is in there._

“What now?” Kurt whispered. Blaine swallowed and shook his head.

“I have no idea, Kurt.” But when he saw the look of fear cross Kurt’s face, he found himself opening his mouth and continuing, “It’s okay, baby. I told you, everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out together as we go along.” The hand still on Kurt’s waist transferred to his face and he locked eyes with Kurt. “Do you believe me?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Kurt nodded. This brought a satisfied smile to Blaine’s lips.

“Good. Do you have plans Monday after school?”

Kurt shook his head. A small grin was growing on his face. “Nope.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

Blaine only smiled.

* * *

Will came home at half past five. He looked worn out but happy, and it tugged on Blaine’s heartstrings.

“Hi, hon,” Will said, dropping down onto the couch beside Blaine, who was watching football. “Have you been in this spot _all_ day?” he teased. Blaine poked his tongue out at him and received an eye roll for it.

“So what if I have?”

Will chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me, that’s for certain.” He kissed Blaine’s cheek, and when Blaine didn’t turn to him in order to make it a real kiss, he frowned. Blaine could _feel_ that frown. “Hey, what’s up? You okay?”

“Fine,” Blaine said, but the word was cut off by a yawn that contradicted it. “Just tired.” He looked at Will and smiled, but Will had an eyebrow raised.

  
“Watching football all day is tiring work, huh?”

 _No, but taking my student I knocked up to the doctor is_ emotionally _tiring work. And how about finding out an abortion could kill him? That’s fucking_ exhausting.

“It’s taxing, okay?”

Will hummed and ran his nose along Blaine’s stubbly cheek, across his jaw. He kissed Blaine’s neck when he reached it and Blaine was mostly fascinated by the lack of response he had to this. It was becoming almost…routine, not being turned on by Will; something that was expected.

When had that happened?

_Does it matter?_

No, he supposed it didn’t. Whenever it had happened, that was where he found himself. And it was a sticky situation, indeed. Maybe theworst part, though, was the lack of guilt he was feeling. It seemed as though his decreasing feelings for Will correlated perfectly with his increasing feelings for Kurt. And the longer it went on, the firmer his feelings became,the less his conscience bothered him about it. It made no sense and the thought itself—that he was cheating on his boyfriend with less and less recriminations from his own heart—gave Blaine a bit of an anxious bubble in his stomach.

Was he an asshole?

Well. Maybe he was. But did that change the fact that when he was with Kurt, he felt happier than he could remember being in years? Not a bit. Like he hadn’t _known_ he wasn’t as happy as he could be until now.

What it also didn’t change, however, was the fact that Kurt was both underage and his student.

No, that would be the case on one hand until Kurt’s birthday (which, he realized, he still didn’t know), and on the other until the end of the school year, which was a semester and a half away.

“Are you wearing perfume…?”

Blaine shook his head as if to rid himself of his circling thoughts and looked at Will with his eyebrows drawn.

“Perfume? Why would I be wearing perfu—” Blaine cut off when he realized _exactly_ why he’d smell like perfume. Kurt must have been wearing something feminine today, and of course it would have rubbed off on Blaine when they’d been sitting in that chair together for god only knew how long. And now he looked suspicious as could be, having broken off like that with a startled expression. “Oh, I went to Macy’s today,” he lied, rather smoothly, too, if he did say so himself. “I needed more clothes for work.”

And so he found himself thanking any attendant deities that he hadn’t fucked Kurt in their bed and spread his scent around like he was _begging_ to be caught. God, he’d have to be more careful.

“Ah,” Will laughed. “So you weren’t on the couch _all_ day.”

Blaine grinned and kissed Will’s nose before turning back to the game on the television. How many more convoluted lies could he feed Will before he figured out something was wrong? How many more would he be forced to tell?

Perhaps forced, he admitted to himself, was a bad word. No one was forcing him to lie.

But how much longer could he go on this way, regardless? And beyond that…what was the end result going to be? For the very first time since this whole debacle had begun, the thought crossed Blaine’s mind that he and Will wouldn’t end up together.

He shook his head again. It was too early (in the pregnancy, in his and Kurt’s relationship) to worry about such things, or at least…still early _enough_ that he could get away with putting off a decision.

He had a sinking feeling that, from this point on, time would pick up speed like a boulder rolling down a steep incline. They had maybe two and a half, three months before Kurt would start showing,and what then?

Well. He would burn that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

The rumor mill was cycling along at its usual rapid pace and Blaine was beginning to think that, when Kurt’s pregnancy began to show, he might actually tear his hair out. People were _still_ talking about him and Kurt, and if they were talking so enthusiastically about it _now_? Well, damn. They were going to have a fucking field day speculating whether or not it was Blaine who’d knocked him up.

And if that didn’t push him to rip his hair out, Kurt would most assuredly get him to that point all on his own.

He came during fifth period, one of Blaine’s two freebies. Blaine was bent over his desk grading an essay and at first didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening and snicking shut behind Kurt. It was only when Kurt approached his desk that he looked up. His first, automatic response was to smile. Then he realized where they were, and the smile fell.

“Kurt,” he said softly, eyes flicking to the door—closed, at least. “What are you doing? Don’t you have class?”

Kurt shrugged and adopted an impish smile. He went around Blaine’s desk and hopped up onto the wooden surface, legs dangling.

“Yeah. But I wanted to see you, and I knew you had a free period.”

Blaine sighed, caught between delight and the knowledge that he _should_ reprimand Kurt.

“How do you know I’m not meeting with someone?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. “Are you?”

“That’s not the point,” Blaine sighed. He lifted a hand and pushed it through his hair, resigning himself to this turn of events. It wasn’t as though seeing Kurt was a hardship, after all. “How’re you feeling today?”

Kurt’s grin widened, knowing he’d won, and a hand lifted to his stomach.

“Pretty good, actually. Aside from the nausea this morning, of course. It was _bad_.”

Blaine mocked Kurt’s pout before standing up so he could press their mouths together. The shades in his classroom were drawn, and that was good, because the courtyard on which the windows looked was most definitely not deserted at this time of day. It was probably teeming with half the student body.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you better now?”

Kurt nodded with a satisfied little grin on his face.

“Good. Oh, that reminds me; I have some stuff for you. Vitamins and whatnot. I did a little bit of research and went shopping yesterday.”

Kurt cooed and leaned forward to kiss Blaine again.

“Aww, you’re the best baby daddy ever.”

Blaine groaned, letting out a short laugh and dropping his head.

“God, _don’t_ call me that.”

Kurt chuckled. “Oh, of course. It’s Mr. Anderson when we’re in school, right?”

Blaine looked up and cocked his head, wearing a slightly bemused expression.

“Are you sassing me?”

Kurt merely grinned. He shrugged, as if to say, _Maybe I am_.

Suddenly hornier than he could remember being since finding out Kurt was pregnant, Blaine crowded against Kurt, moving between his legs and spreading them further apart. He heard Kurt suck in an audible breath. His hands landed on Kurt’s thighs, squeezing lightly, and he brought his mouth to Kurt’s ear.

“And what do you think happens to slutty little boys like you who disrespect their teacher?” he breathed. Kurt pulled back just enough so he could look up into Blaine’s face.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. His blue eyes were big and so deceivingly innocent. “But I’d love to find out.”

Blaine dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder and let out a breath of laughter. His hands moved from Kurt’s thighs to his waist, one of them continuing up to his stomach and resting there. The laughter left as suddenly as it had come.

Blaine swallowed, hard.

“You’re gonna look so fucking good when you get big, Kurt.” He hadn’t known he was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth, but he had no desire at all to take them back. Kurt was looking at him in what appeared to be astonishment. The desire beneath it, however, was undeniable. He began kissing beneath Kurt’s ear, streaming kisses from one side of his neck to the other. “So good, all big and pregnant with my baby. Fuck.”

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, and it was just shy of being a whine.

“You like that?” There was a hint of awe in Blaine’s voice. He couldn’t image where this had come from; never would he have expected himself to be so turned on by the idea of someone carrying his baby. But he _was_. God, he was throbbing with want. “You like that idea, baby?”

There was less than a moment’s hesitation before Kurt nodded. His little “yeah” was breathless and his eyes were wide, cheeks flushed. Blaine kissed his jaw and let the hand that had been on his stomach dip down to his pussy, where he cupped Kurt through his jeans. Kurt moaned softly.

“I know why you came to see me,” Blaine said against Kurt’s neck. He began pressing up with his hand, rubbing hard over Kurt’s pussy. Kurt’s hips pressed down into the touch, his hands coming up to grip Blaine’s shoulders. “With all those hormones going wild right now, your greedy little cunt must be _aching_ , huh, baby?”

Kurt let out a small cry. “Yes, yes, _please_ , Blaine, _please_.”

Blaine hushed him and pressed one last sucking kiss to Kurt’s shoulder. He rid Kurt first of his jeans and then of his panties, wasting no time teasing. Kurt’s pussy was flushed and soaking wet when Blaine parted his lips with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. He could see Kurt’s hole clenching.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “Look at that pretty, messy pussy of yours. Always so hungry for my cock, aren’t you? Such a slut for me.” He found Kurt’s clit, already stiff and swollen. He circled it slowly with his thumb.

There was something beyond his raging libido, though. Something that made his chest feel warm and tight in the best possible way. He caught Kurt’s mouth in a deep kiss; all those feelings from Saturday came whirling back, knocking Blaine metaphorically on his ass.

When he leaned in to catch Kurt’s mouth in another kiss, Blaine felt him shudder.The accompanying gush of fluid let him know that yes, Kurt’s hormones had him worked up, because he’d just come in a matter of minutes.

“Jesus,” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s lips. Kurt let out a breathless laugh. He pulled away and looked at Kurt’s flushed face. For the first time, he allowed himself to ruminate on his emotions. This boy sitting on his desk meant something more to him that just sex. It hadn’t started that way, he knew that with one hundred percent surety, but…it had developed. Somehow. And it wasn’t just the pregnancy, either. It was something Blaine had never felt before, something deep and strong and lovely.

He was pulled from his moment of reverie by Kurt, who put a hand on Blaine’s cheek.

“Hey,” Kurt said softly. Blaine focused back on his face and smiled.

“Hey.”

He chuckled and shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed, Blaine was interested to see. Kurt wasn’t usually embarrassed about anything sexual. At least…not out loud, he supposed.

“How much time do we have before sixth?”

Blaine brought his wrist up and glanced at his watch. “’Bout twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

Kurt’s smile turned devilish. Again, Blaine marveled at the swell of affection he felt in reaction. God, Kurt was…he was something else. Something else entirely.

“You should fuck me.”

Blaine was startled into a laugh. When he sobered, he shook his head. Kurt’s smile dropped and for a moment he looked put out. Blaine kissed Kurt’s pouting lower lip, then pulled away just an inch, so their noses were still touching.

“You’re too beautiful to fuck,” he whispered.

The pout left Kurt’s face in a hurry. In its place came something that tightened Blaine’s chest yet again. He looked back and forth between Blaine’s eyes, seemingly contemplating his next words. Finally he said:

“Then make love to me.”

Blaine felt quite as though his heart had leapt into his throat, while his stomach dropped promptly out his butt. He brought both hands up to Kurt’s cheeks, framing his pretty pale face, and planted a hard kiss on his mouth. Then, with one hand, he reached down to unzip and unbutton his pants. Blaine pulled his cock out, throbbing and painfully hard already.

He pressed the tip between Kurt’s folds, letting out a whooshing breath at the feeling.

“It seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” he said, voice breathy and strained, as he started to push in. Kurt opened up around him, his arms coming up to circle Blaine’s neck, pull himself closer. Blaine thought he might burst from emotion.

Kurt’s nails were digging into the nape of Blaine’s neck when he finally looked up and asked, “What does?”

Blaine buried his face against Kurt’s neck, groaning when he bottomed out, enveloped entirely in Kurt’s wet, warm heat. And it was so much different than any other time they’d done this. Maybe one or both of them had felt something before, but they’d never acknowledged it. Blaine knew that Kurt felt the same way without having to ask; it was that special kind of intuition that only people in love can understand. A kind of kinship born out of deep affection.

“That I’d…” Blaine broke off, feeling himself about to trip over the words before they’d even come out. He tried again: “That I’d make love to you here, in the classroom, on my desk.”

Kurt pulled Blaine’s face gently away from his neck so their eyes could meet. Blaine was still buried inside him, not moving, just enjoying the connection. Enjoying the freedom he was giving himself to explore his feelings. Will didn’t even cross his mind; right now, his whole world was centered around Kurt. One hand came up to settle over Kurt’s stomach, and he saw emotion flash across Kurt’s face.

“Is that what this is?” Kurt asked, his voice hushed, hardly more than a whisper.

_Do you love me?_

Blaine swallowed. He kissed Kurt again.

“Yes,” he said. Kurt’s hand tightened on Blaine’s neck.

As he pulled out and pushed leisurely back in, he realized how true that was. He couldn’t say it yet—saying it right out loud was a huge leap. It had always been that way for Blaine in every relationship he’d ever had. He didn’t take the sentiment lightly. When he loved someone, he loved them with everything he had.

This situation was different from any relationship he’d ever been in before. And this _was_ a relationship. Maybe it hadn’t started that way; certainly neither had intended for it to end up like this, but here they were, for better or for worse.

And did he love Kurt?

He was beginning to think love just might have something to do with it.

He fucked Kurt slowly, with careful, measures strokes, enjoying everything from the way it felt to press in to the way Kurt squeezed around him, the way his walls felt. Blaine paid attention to every face Kurt made, committed every sound to memory. His hand stayed planted firmly on Kurt’s stomach, inside of which their baby was growing. _Their_ baby.

Kurt’s hand came up to cover his and Blaine felt so overwhelmed by emotion he had to bury his face in Kurt’s neck again. The other hand moved up from Blaine’s neck to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Blaine bit down on Kurt’s neck and the moan he evoked from Kurt made him pick up the pace of his hips, his belly suddenly flaring with heat.

“Blaine, I’m…I’m close…”

And so Blaine pumped his hips faster, feeling the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, his temples, his back, begin to drip down his skin in lazy streams. He sucked on the damp skin of Kurt’s neck without caring whether he’d leave a mark—it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered at this moment was making Kurt feel as exquisite as he possibly could, make him come on Blaine’s cock, _hard_.

When he finally pulled away from Kurt’s neck it was so he could kiss him again.

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice audibly strained. The hand not on Kurt’s stomach found his clit. “Can you come for me again? Let go, Kurt. Come on, sweetheart.”

Kurt let out a short, broken moan and his whole body shuddered violently. He came so hard he squirted, fluid gushing out around Blaine’s cock and getting both their shirts wet. Kurt kept moving against Blaine in an effort to prolong the orgasm, and somewhere in there, Blaine snapped. He ground into Kurt’s pussy as he came, dropping his head onto Kurt’s shoulder and groaning. Blaine lost himself for a moment, so overcome with pleasure and emotion (love, so overcome with _love_ ) he nearly forgot where they were. When he came back around, Kurt was petting through his sweaty hair and pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“Good?” Kurt laughed softly. A smile grew on Blaine’s face. He looked up at Kurt and let himself drink in the sight of him for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Great, in fact.”

Kurt chuckled and kissed Blaine with an open mouth. They drowned in each other’s lips for another few minutes before the bell interrupted them. Blaine pulled away with large, glassy eyes. Kurt seemed amused by this. After one last peck he hopped down from Blaine’s desk and gathered up his underwear and pants. When he’d buttoned himself up, Blaine slipped his arms around Kurt from behind.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he breathed. Kurt folded his arms over Blaine’s and turned his head just enough so they could meet in another kiss. Before he could answer, the sound of the door handle being jiggled interrupted them. Kurt shot out of Blaine’s arms so fast the naked eye might not have been able to follow his movement. Blaine couldn’t help laughing, for which he earned himself a glare. It was as Kurt went to his seat (for it was sixth period, and his next class was, conveniently, Blaine’s) that Blaine noticed the hickey he’d left on Kurt’s neck.

Damn, if that wasn’t the biggest bruise he’d ever left on someone’s neck.

But before he could alert Kurt to its presence, the door opened and Trent, the chubby kid who’d argued with Kurt about the meaning behind _The Stranger_ , came waltzing into the room. Blaine looked at Kurt and they shared a single glance that left both of them trying to hide smiles the remainder of the period.


	12. Chapter 12

After school on Monday Blaine took Kurt out to dinner again. They didn’t go anywhere nearly as expensive; Blaine chose a cute little cafe near Columbus he remembered frequenting in high school with his senior year boyfriend, the one he’d been head over heels for. It was a fond memory, any lingering bitterness washed away over the many years in between, and he was smiling about it when he and Kurt sat down at their table.

“I used to take my boyfriend in high school here all the time,” Blaine told him. Kurt looked highly amused. He quirked an eyebrow and the corners of his lips lifted.

“Did you have a lot of boyfriends in high school?”

Blaine shook his head, rolled his eyes. “Hardly,” he said. The waiter came by and they ordered their drinks—iced tea for Kurt, Diet Coke for Blaine. He had a weakness. “In fact, I only had two. The second, during my senior year, was my first love.” He laughed and Kurt appeared interested. His head tipped to the side and he studied Blaine carefully.

“I’ve never been in love,” he said in a dreamy voice. “I mean…well…” And now his cheeks turned a rosy color that was entirely endearing. Blaine’s stomach swooped pleasantly. He was brought back to earlier in the day, when they’d made love for the first time. Feeling particularly fond of Kurt right now, he reached over the table and took Kurt’s hand.

As wonderful as it was to hear Kurt beginning to express his mutual feelings of affection, Blaine changed the subject. He’d taken Kurt here for a reason, and that reason was making some decisions.

“Listen,” he began, “I wanted to talk a little bit about how we’re gonna proceed.” Kurt looked about as excited as he felt, but nodded anyway. “We’ve still got probably two months before you’ll start showing, but that two months is gonna go quickly. We need to come up with some sort of…game plan, or something.”

“You mean figure out what we’re gonna tell people.”

Blaine nodded. “That’s right. I know you know how imperative it is—how _critical_ that no one finds out it’s my baby.” He paused, and then added, “Yet, at least.” A smile twitched on Kurt’s lips and then disappeared. “Not only will I go to jail, but I won’t be able to help you.”

“So do I make someone up?”

“Uh-uh,” Blaine said, shaking his head. The waiter brought their drinks and left again to give them more time to look at the menus, which they hadn’t yet opened. Blaine sipped his drink and ran the tip of his finger along the circumference of the rim thoughtfully. He looked up, a smirk having appeared, and said, “Do they still teach you K.I.S.S. in school? Probably not.” Kurt raised an eyebrow, and that was answer enough. “It means ‘keep it simple, stupid.’ I learned that in middle school, in math, I think—fuck if I can remember why. Anyway, it’s a good thing to keep in mind. I guess they didn’t mean for it to be applied when you’re lying, but the principle still applies.”

“So, what then?” Kurt said. “How do you make a lie like this simple?”

“Well, for starters, don’t bring elements into the story. Just leave them out.” Kurt looked unsure still and Blaine elaborated: “Instead of making up some idiot boyfriend who knocked you up that everyone—especially your _dad—_ will want to meet, just eliminate that part of the story.”

“Uh, Blaine?” Kurt said dully, “I’m not the virgin Mary. _Someone_ had to stick his—”

Blaine put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Okay, okay, I get the point. What I _meant_ was that instead of making someone up, say he’s out of the picture. It was a one night thing and by the time you realized you were pregnant he was long gone.”

Kurt appeared to find this idea less than favorable.

“So I have to look like some idiot who let myself get knocked up by a guy I didn’t even _know_?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Does the real story make either of us look any better?”

Kurt opened his mouth, seemed to think it over, and then snapped it shut. He looked solemn.

“Right,” he muttered dejectedly.

“Besides” Blaine continued, “it’s just until you graduate. Maybe a little bit longer, but not by much. You’ll still be pregnant. Huge and fit to burst, but still rollin’ along. We’ll _have_ to tell people by the time you have the baby ‘cause there isn’t a chance in hell I’m missing the birth.”

In spite of the situation, Kurt smiled adoringly at Blaine. Blaine squeezed his hand and Kurt squeezed back.

Kurt said shyly, “Do you…know what you want it to be yet?”

Blaine felt fluttery excitement in his belly and had to quell it. “I…” He swallowed and there was an audible click. “Kurt,” he sighed, “we can’t…” Again he trailed off and he licked his lips. “This brings us to the next thing we need to talk about, although I was hoping we could keep putting it off. I just…”

Kurt’s face fell into a study of solemnity. “You mean…us. You and…and Will.”

Blaine’s elbow clunked to the tabletop and he rested his forehead in his hand. “No, actually,” he said, his voice bitter. “That’s a third issue.”

“What’s the other?”

Blaine looked at Kurt and let out a whooshing breath. “Well, the decision of whether or not you were going to have an abortion was made for us. But we still have to consider…once you have the baby.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “You mean adoption?”

Blaine shrugged and nodded. “Well, yeah. Kurt, do you realize what it means to raise a kid? I mean,” he waved his hand, “forget Will, forget the illegality of a relationship between us for more than one reason…neither of us are _ready_ to raise a baby, Kurt. Jesus, I can hardly take care of my _self_. I may seem like an adult to you because you met me as your teacher, but I’m only twenty-three.” He laughed and there was a note of hysteria in it that chilled Kurt’s bones. “I finished my _undergrad_ this past May.” He hesitated, and then voiced aloud the thought that had been circling in his head since he first started this thing with Kurt: “It was six years ago that I was your age. It may seem like a lot to you right now, but to me it feels like no time at all. That’s less than ten years. By almost half. And _you_.” Blaine shook his head. “You’re not even eighteen, Kurt. You’ve got no _clue_ where you’re headed, what you wanna do, do you really want a _baby_ putting all of that on hold? Maybe forever?”

Kurt looked at Blaine coldly and Blaine flinched.

“As you said, I don’t _know_ what I want.” He looked down, but his grip tightened on Blaine’s hand. When he looked back up, his expression had softened. “Maybe what I want is to have a family.”

Despite the way those words made Blaine feel impossibly warm, he shook his head. “Maybe one day,” he said softly. “But not when you’re barely eighteen. I won’t let you do that. You’re too talented, you have too much to offer the world.”

“Who says having a baby would ruin my dreams? It might defer them a few years, but why should it make them impossible? And anyway, if I’m _happy_ , what does it matter?”

Blaine wouldn’t allow himself to be provoked by Kurt’s words. Kurt was seventeen, he reminded himself. Still in that phase where he knew everything there was to know about the world.

That made Blaine think of a conversation he’d had with his mom not three weeks ago. He’d been complaining about that very tendency in teenagers, and he’d asked her:

“Did I go through a phase like that? I must have.”

His mom had looked at him, lips quirking into an amused smile.

“Blaine,” she’d said, and raised a sharp eyebrow, “I got news for you, babycakes. You’re still goin’ through it.”

“…Oh.”

Blaine sighed and tried to think how to phrase his answer to Kurt in a way that wouldn’t make him angry. You had to tread water so carefully around teenagers lest they turn their angst unto you.

“Look.” He reached behind his head and scratched absently at his neck. “I just mean…a baby doesn’t just go away. That’s a lifetime commitment. If you went away to college, you’d have to bring the baby. And, Kurt, that doesn’t just go for the first couple of years. A kid isn’t independent until they’re _older_ than you are now. And you can’t just think about yourself. Think about the _child_.” He lowered his voice, “Would you be able to provide a baby with everything it needs right now?

And, Kurt, I mean, I’m not saying…” Blaine released a sigh that came from deep within his chest cavity. “I’m not saying you _shouldn’t_ keep the baby.” The silence that followed this declaration was full of half-formed images of the two of them living a normal, family life; filled with heavy things unspoken. “I’m just making sure you’re aware of the serious and very real consequences.” Kurt had looked down again and Blaine squeezed his hand to get his attention. “You know I would help you. I would…” He brought his other hand up and held Kurt’s in both of his own. “Kurt, I feel…so strongly about you. You must know that. And if you keep the baby, I’ll be there every single day.” He looked deep into Kurt’s eyes, saying, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since fifth period today, and I do love you, Kurt.”

Kurt’s blush was beautiful, and it filled Blaine with an utter certainly about the confession he’d made.

“It came out of nowhere and it hit me like a goddamn brick. I am crazy about you.” And now he’d said it, he couldn’t _stop_ saying it. The way Kurt smiled so shyly, it made Blaine feel giddy. How strange it was, he thought, that one could find love in the most peculiar places. And sure, it put him in the middle of a sticky situation, but that somehow couldn’t dull the incredible thrill of having met somebody he felt such a strong kinship with.

“I love you too, Blaine,” came Kurt’s quiet reply, soft but resolute. This made Blaine feel so effortlessly a way Will had never been able to. The turmoil which had been raging inside him for weeks now flared up unpleasantly and turned the warm feelings Kurt had evoked into something nauseating. He took one hand back and pushed it through his hair.

“Issue number three,” he said dully. Kurt looked down and fidgeted in his seat. “This will decide number two.”

The waiter came back to take their orders and both chose something at random; it was a classic menu fit for a classic little diner, and choosing something in a pinch was simple. When he’d left with their orders Blaine reached for his glass of Coke and took a long sip through his straw, then proceeded to chew on the end.

“You have an oral fixation,” Kurt said in a casual did-you-know voice. Blaine, straw still between his teeth, looked to Kurt with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Have you never noticed? I think you do. You’re always chewing on things, biting your nails…” He blushed fiercely and cleared his throat. “And we both know what your favorite past time is.”

It took him a moment, but when it clicked, a devilish smile rose on lips.

“You’re lucky we’re sitting opposite,” he whispered, and under the table he could hear Kurt cross his legs.

“Anyway,” Kurt said loudly, and he widened his eyes in silent communication to tell Blaine to _shut up_.

“Anyway.”

“ _Anyway._ You were saying before?”

As though in those few moments he’d forgotten, Blaine’s face fell when the dreaded topic was brought back onto the table.

“I was saying,” Blaine resumed, but he didn’t continue, finding himself short of words. Finally, he decided to wing it: “I…I don’t know whether I love Will. That makes me think I don’t. I _know_ I love you.”

Kurt grinned hugely and looked down to cover it.

“But.”

Kurt looked up. “But,” he repeated sullenly.

Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. “But I want…I’ve always imagined just a…a _normal_ life, I guess…Something I could never have with you. Something Will could give me…”

He wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see the flame steal over Kurt’s face, turning it almost ugly in its rage.

“I’m sorry. _What_?”

And now Blaine did look up, and he was suddenly afraid of the look on Kurt’s face. The fear—never a fun emotion, and one humans have learned to mask with a secondary one—turned into anger and his body tensed, as if readying itself as if for a physical fight. His irrational mind told him  Kurt was completely out of line being angry, completely unfair, thinking only of himself. And the whole thing had started _because of him_.

“A _normal_ life, Kurt. With a boyfriend _my_ age and a house and kids and a teaching job where slutty little seventeen-year-olds don’t seduce me into cheating on my boyfriend, neglect to tell me both about their virginity and the very relevant fact that _they can get pregnant_ , and then piss and moan about giving it up for adoption! This is my life you’re fucking up, too!”

Kurt stood so fast his chair nearly toppled. He whipped his napkin down on the table and unsettled Blaine’s Diet Coke, tipping it sideways onto the wooden tabletop so the hissing, brown, syrupy liquid could pool its way to edge of the table and then spill over onto Blaine’s lap in a sugary waterfall.

“Kurt—” Blaine began, his voice downcast and already ashamed. He stood but Kurt was too fast. He stormed out of the restaurant and because Blaine had driven, he started walking. When he was far enough away that he didn’t think Blaine would find him (aided by the cover of night), he called Rachel.

She answered on the second ring.

Kurt’s voice was quavery with accumulating tears. “I need you to pick me up in the city.”


	13. Chapter 13

As if there _was_ a god and he’d decided it might be fun to insult Kurt after kicking him in the mud, it began to rain. Kurt ducked inside the entrance to Henry’s Lobster House and watched through the glass for Rachel’s car with his arms folded over his midsection to preserve warmth. The weather had turned chilly with November and the rain was freezing; the drops seemed never to dry on Kurt’s skin and kept him from recovering any semblance of warmth—or maybe that cold was coming from inside and radiating out. Hard to tell.

His sigh of relief was deep and long when he saw Rachel’s familiar red Forester pull up beside the curb. Her hand hovered above the steering wheel like she was about to honk but Kurt was already out the door of the Lobster House, head bent against the downpour, and into her car before Rachel had a chance. She took one look at him and her face transformed into an expression of such pity that the flow of tears Kurt had only just managed to quell and keep precariously balanced on the edge of resurgence tipped too far in that direction and started anew.

“Oh, Kurt,” she said softly, and she reached out with a tentative hand to touch his arm. When he didn’t flinch away from her she gripped his forearm and squeezed gently. “What is it? What happened?” A pause, and she added, almost hesitantly, “What did he do?”

Kurt could only shake his head, speech temporarily impossible through the heaviness of his tears. He pressed his palms into his eyes and cried harder and Rachel rubbed his back, mindless to the honking of irritated drivers who had to swerve out of their way to go around her car. Well, they could just _gey kakken af en yom_ , as her grandmother might have so eloquently said. Her best friend was hurting, and it was the worst kind of hurting: it was _heart_ -hurting. Rachel knew all about that—it had been only two months since she’d found out Finn had _lied_ to her and lost his virginity a whole year ago, and to _Santana_ , no less. But she shook her head of that thought; right now was about Kurt.

Kurt, and this reckless, completely _absurd_ game he’d been playing an entire month now. It had been scandalous but in a fun sort of way before. It certainly wasn’t the norm, but sleeping with teachers wasn’t unheard of. _This_ , though. This was not a silly (but totally irresponsible) one- or two-time hook-up. Kurt had told her they’d been seeing each other more often, that they’d slept together a few times, but she could see now this was not the case at all, and she had been lied to. She would be angry later, after she’d taken care of her best friend and helped him pick himself off the floor.

Deciding it might be good to give him a minute to calm down, Rachel drove to her house. He did indeed reduce his tears to little sniffles and quiet whimpers by the time they pulled into the driveway, and when Kurt made no protest about having been brought here, Rachel turned the car off.

“D’you wanna go inside?” she said. Her voice was soft, careful, and it made Kurt sigh and brought forth a few more fat tears. He nodded. “You wanna go to my room?”

A moment’s pause, and then he nodded again.

They trudged upstairs and made themselves comfortable on the bed. Rachel waited, and when nothing was forthcoming, she pushed a bit to get the ball rolling: “It _was_ Blaine, wasn’t it?”

Kurt swallowed down the excess saliva that had begun to accumulate in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he told her. Rachel nodded encouragingly, tight-lipped in an effort not to interrupt. “Rachel, I have to tell you something.”

Tears sprang to Rachel’s eyes so quickly her vision went blurry and she had to wipe them away.

“Kurt,” she whispered. Her hand gripped onto his arm and squeezed. “Tell me you’re not sick. Tell me he didn’t get you sick. Oh, I _told_ you to use condoms! Kurt, I _told_ you!” In her own grief she didn’t consider the possibility that this wasn’t the case, and as was quite natural in her case, her emotions spun rapidly out of control until she’d worked herself up into hysterics in the space of a few seconds. “What is it, what did he give you?” Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she peered at Kurt above her fingers, crying freely now. She knew only two things right now, and they were these facts: Blaine was much older than them, and had probably had numerous sexual partners, especially taking into account his apparent willingness to extend his partnership to his own _students_ —and in lieu of that, it was safe to assume his recklessness, his irresponsibility…it was just about guaranteed he didn’t usually use condoms.

Rachel’s tendency to catastrophize added these factors together and landed resolutely upon one conclusion:

“Tell me he didn’t give you AIDS, Kurt,” she whispered. She hiccuped and an agonized whimper came out with a new flood of tears. “Oh my god, Kurt, how—”

“Rachel,” he said suddenly; and, Rachel saw, miraculously, _his_ tears had _stopped_. He looked not amused, not by miles, but somehow calmer. She responded to his more relaxed state by calming herself. Her shoulders dropped, as did her hands. A few more tears still dripped down her cheeks, but that was all that remained of her theatrics. Kurt let out a whoosh of breath and swallowed audibly. “Rachel,” he said again, “I don’t have AIDS.”

Rachel looked at him with big doe eyes that still swam with tears. “You…you don’t?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. He chewed on the inside of his lip and contemplated Rachel a moment before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

  
  


When he finished telling Rachel his tale, beginning with his first missed period and ending with his and Blaine’s disastrous dinner date, she let out a long sigh that caused her whole torso to deflate and her cheeks to puff out comically. She tucked her lips into her mouth for a moment, seeming to contemplate everything she’d just heard, and finally said, “Wow.”  
  
Kurt huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked irritably. “‘Wow’?”  
  
Rachel didn’t even look affronted by his harsh tone; the shocked expression that had started on her face at his initial declaration and only grown through the course of his story appeared stuck there.  
  
"I just…" She shook her head and blinked twice. "I mean…I have to say, I never expected this. Not even…" Again, she seemed to lose track of her words and trailed off.  
  
"Not even what?" Kurt snapped. Rachel took a breath and finally appeared to gain some semblance of control over herself.  
  
"Not even with…with what I told you, to be careful and…and that, you know, there wasn’t enough conclusive evidence to suggest you _couldn’t_ get pregnant, I just never thought…”  
  
A sigh was forced from Kurt’s body and the anger seeped away in its entirety.  
  
"Yeah," he said softly, dejectedly. "Yeah, I know, right? I didn’t either. Not ever. _Ever._ I think maybe that’s…” He stopped, swallowed, and twisted his hands in his lap. “That’s part of it. You know what I mean? Part of the…the shock, and the scariness…it’s ‘cause I just never in a hundred million years expected to get pregnant.” He laughed bitterly. “They say the same thing about anyone who does stupid things, though, don’t they? You think you’re invincible until you find out you aren’t.”  
  
Rachel shrugged and after a beat nodded. “Well. It sure did happen, huh?” The statement was succeeded by a small, teasing smile that somehow pulled a grudging one from Kurt as well. He put a hand on his belly—not yet showing visibly, but he could feel _something_ going on in there—and gave Rachel a genuine smile.  
  
"Yeah, it did. And, Rachel, it’s nothing like I could’ve imagined. Nothing at all."  
  
Despite the situation, she also grinned, and it was hugely excited. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and her face sobered a bit. Just a bit. “Okay,” she said. “I have _so_ many questions and…and oh my god, just so much to ask you, but _first_ …first we should discuss. Right? I mean, what happened tonight. That’s most important right this second.”  
  
Kurt’s face fell back into the downcast expression he’d been wearing the whole car ride to Rachel’s house. She tipped her head and looked at Kurt sympathetically. He could practically feel her holding back the “I _told_ you this would happen.”  
  
"He’s a jackass," Kurt mumbled, rubbing at his belly absently. Rachel’s eyes flickered down for a moment and then back up.  
  
"Yeah," she said on a breath. "He does sort of sound like it. Only, the way you’ve been telling it the past couple weeks, he’s positively charming." It wasn’t a question, rather a statement meant to provoke some sort of explanation out of Kurt. Kurt sighed.  
  
"It’s so complicated," he said, and just barely managed to keep a whine out of his voice. "Blaine, he’s…" Kurt’s eyes became unfocused and dreamy, "he’s so wonderful sometimes. He _is_ charming. Terribly so. And he’s kind, and thoughtful, and handsome, and, oh, Rachel, he’s so _smart,_ but he’s such a…a _boy!”_ he finally settled on, chest heaving with emotion. “He’s _such_ a boy, he just doesn’t _get_ it, do you know what I mean?”  
  
Rachel laughed without humor. “You should meet Finn,” she said dully. “I know exactly what you mean. Boys are so—and this is no offense to you, of course—so _dumb._ They don’t think before they say anything.” Rachel ran her tongue across her bottom lip and thought for a moment. She resettled herself on her bed and looked unflinchingly at Kurt, and he shuffled a bit under that gaze. “Look. I don’t like Blaine, but I’ve also never met him. Honestly? He sounds like a sleeze bag.” Kurt opened his mouth to protest and she held a hand up to stop him. “That doesn’t mean that he is, he just sounds like it. I will admit that some of the stuff you’ve told me makes him also sound a little like Prince Charming, but _Kurt_.” And here she paused for dramatic effect, eying him hard. “Look what he just said to you. I mean…” Rachel fluttered her hand, as though words weren’t enough. An incredulous laugh came out. “God, that he could say what he said to you tonight without—”  
  
"He was about to apologize when I stood up—"  
  
"Oh my god, Kurt," Rachel said, laughing again, looking stunned, "does it really matter? If he _hadn’t_ been about to apologize I’d tell you never to speak to him again.”  
  
There was a pause, and finally Kurt said with threaded eyebrows, “…you mean you _aren’t_ going to tell me that?”  
  
She patted her dress down over her lap and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m not going to tell you that. I will say that it was horrendous, not to mention stupid, but it’s very clear to me that you have strong feelings for him and anyway, you need an adult to help you out.” She hesitated, then added, “Even a poor excuse for one.”  
  
"So…what? You’re honestly going to tell me I should continue seeing him?" He nearly laughed, but all that came out was a scoff of disbelief. It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t _want_ to continue seeing Blaine…or whatever it was they were doing. He did. He fully intended to, in fact. He just hadn’t expected to be supported in that decision, and for some obscure reason he couldn’t put a finger on, that made him question it.  
  
"Why don’t you stop assuming what I’m going to say and let me say it?" Rachel’s lips quirked and Kurt frowned at her. He waved a hand, as if to say, _go ahead, if you must_. “You have to give Blaine an ultimatum, Kurt.” In response to his widened eyes, she continued, “You have to! You have no choice. If you don’t, he’ll just keep playing pong with you and his boyfriend, bouncing back and forth between you guys, and one of these days, Kurt, he’s not just gonna say something stupid, he’s gonna _do_ something stupid, and what if that something is accidentally letting this spill to someone who could get you guys in trouble? What if his boyfriend’s a psychopath who comes to kill you _?”_  
  
 _"Rachel—"_  
  
 _"Kurt,_ that’s exactly how you said my name when I told you to be careful about getting pregnant and look what happened!” She gestured to his belly and Kurt turned red. He rolled his eyes and sighed.  
  
"Okay," he conceded. "Fine. I will allow for that possibility, even if I think it’s far-fetched. However, I…I guess you’re right about him doing something stupid sooner or later." Kurt paused and put a hand over his face. "And I can’t afford that. I just can’t."  
  
"No," Rachel agreed. "You can’t. You also can’t afford to share his attention with a boyfriend he’s trying to…what? Create a normal life with? What does that even mean? He told you he loves you, but he wants to try and have a life with this other guy?" Rachel rolled her eyes all the way to the ceiling and the judgment in that action was so heavy that Kurt was startled into a laugh. "That doesn’t sound normal, Kurt, that sounds ridiculous and completely irrational. He’s holding onto some fantasy that is never going to pan out, _especially_ with a baby in the picture now, one that apparently you can’t have aborted without seriously risking your life.  
  
So? What’re you gonna do?”  
  
The question was so abrupt that Kurt faltered.  
  
"I—I don’t know, I guess I—"  
  
His phone, vibrating in his pocket, stopped him mid-sentence, although he hadn’t had anything planned out to say anyway. More in an effort to give himself more time to think than because he cared who it was, he took his phone out of his pants and looked at the screen.  
  
He was struck dumb when he saw Blaine’s name and beside it his picture. Beneath both “slide to answer.”  
  
"He’s calling me," he said into the air, and Rachel shifted on her bed, getting closer so she could see the screen.  
  
"Are you gonna answer it?"  
  
Kurt waved the phone uselessly in the air. “I don’t know! Should I?”  
  
Rachel pursed her lips and took the phone out of Kurt’s hands, and with it the decision of whether or not to answer.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Kurt didn’t see it coming and so had no time to stop her. His eyes went wide as saucers and he slapped his hands to his mouth, watching in horror as his two lives merged together in the most horrific way he could imagine _._  
  
 _"No,_ this is Rachel, his best friend. I would _just_ like to say that—”  
  
Coming to his senses just in time, Kurt swiped the phone out of Rachel’s hand and pressed it to his ear. “Blaine? It’s me.”  
  
"Kurt." Blaine sounded so forlorn Kurt almost didn’t recognize his voice. It startled him so badly that he couldn’t find his own. "I’m so sorry, Kurt. I can’t say it enough. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever said in my life and I’m just so, so _sorry_ —”  
  
"Blaine?" There was silence, Blaine waiting for Kurt to either forgive him or drop a bomb on his life. "Just shut up for a second." He could just imagine Blaine’s face, looking strikingly like a kicked puppy, his big doe eyes wide and round and sad, maybe even swimming with tears. Kurt felt a headache coming on and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished more than anything he’d been able to finish his conversation with Rachel before talking to Blaine, wished she hadn’t _answered_ for him, but it was no good wishing for what hadn’t happened.

Bitterly, he thought, _No use crying over spilled milk._

Had that become the idiom to define him? Was that what his life had turned into, just a series of random, uncontrollable events he had no choice but to accept?

Did it matter?

Heaving a sigh, he brought his phone away from his ear and muted it so Blaine couldn’t hear anything.

“Why the hell did you answer?” he demanded of Rachel. Rachel had the grace, at least, to look ashamed.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I just thought—”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You just thought. Well that was quick thinking, Rachel, thank you. Now what?”

Rachel shrugged. She bit her lower lip and looked around the room, as though the answer might appear right out of thin air and save them both a migraine. “I dunno. I guess…talk to him, right? What else?”

“This isn’t a conversation to have over the phone!”

Rachel looked harried and she wrung her hands, thinking fast in an effort to save a situation she’d helped create. Kurt, seeing there was no help coming from her corner, unmuted the phone and pressed it back against the side of his face.

“Blaine?”

“I’m here.”

“Blaine, I think—”

“Kurt!” Rachel hissed. Kurt stared at her disbelievingly, dropping the phone half an inch from his ear.

“ _What_ , Rachel?”

She suddenly looked excited. “Have him come here!”

Kurt continued to stare, thinking that maybe he’d heard wrong. She couldn’t have said what he thought she’d said because that would be—

“Seriously, Kurt! I can…I’d like to meet him, and that way you don’t have to be alone with him, right? You guys can talk, I’ll leave you alone, of course, but I’ll, you know…be there, in case you need me.”

Kurt’s eyes turned to slits. He forgot about Blaine being able to hear everything and said, “We’re not dealing with a murderer, Rachel, we’re dealing with an asshole.”

She shrugged one shoulder up. “Even so,” she said. “Moral support.” Her face turned pink and she added, “Plus, I really would like to meet him.”

“Rachel,” Kurt sighed, “this is so not the time.” But it was beginning to feel like maybe it _was_ the time. He and Blaine had just had a blow-out fight, but he’d had time to cool off, and what Rachel had said was entirely true: Kurt did have strong feelings for Blaine. And regardless of when they ended up talking about what Blaine had said, Kurt knew in his heart they’d kiss and make up. Not just because that was what had to happen in the baby’s best interest, but because it was what they both wanted, and Kurt knew that. Besides, Blaine had flat out told him he loved him.

This whole situation was soap-opera worthy, Kurt thought, and finally pressed the phone back to his ear, making a split-second decision.

“You wanna talk about this?” he asked Blaine.

“Please, Kurt.”

Kurt wiped a hand over his mouth and then pressed his knuckles into one eye. The headache was growing and he could feel it throbbing behind his left eyebrow.

“Okay. Fine. I will give you an opportunity to explain yourself, although there’s no excuse in the world good enough to excuse what you said to me—”

“I’m not explaining myself,” Blaine said, his voice low and gravelly through the phone. “As you said, there’s no explanation in the world. I can only apologize and try to make you believe I’m being sincere. And if you feel up to it, we can go back to discussing what we originally planned to discuss.”

Kurt was quiet a moment. He looked at Rachel, who was looking back curiously, waiting to see what was going to happen, whether she’d get to meet the man who’d completely dazzled Kurt and robbed him of his sense the past month or so.

“Okay,” he told Blaine. With the word came a wave of relief that made his body sag. He realized then it had been only a matter of time until he acquiesced, and he was relieved to have done so without having forced himself to suffer for days before talking it out. This was best. He knew in his heart of hearts that Blaine hadn’t meant what he’d said, and honestly, it just wasn’t worth the drama of making him pay for it. This past hour had likely been payment enough; the poor guy had probably been eating his heart out before giving up and calling Kurt.

“Okay?” Blaine’s voice was both surprised and hopeful, and it was the surprise that made Kurt certain he was doing the right thing. Blaine truly hadn’t expected a reprieve so soon, and that meant, at least, that he understood how horrible his words had been.

“Yes. Listen, I’m at Rachel’s house. Can you come here? You can pick me up and…” Kurt looked at Rachel, who nodded enthusiastically. “Rachel wants to meet you. She knows the situation. She’s known I’ve been sleeping with you, so you don’t have worry about her telling anyone. And her dads aren’t home, so—”

“Dads?” Blaine interrupted. His voice had lost its somber quality in favor of total confusion and morbid curiosity. “Did you say _dads_? Plural?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt chuckled. “She has two dads. They’re gay.”

There was a pause. Then, “I’d love to meet her. When should I come?”

* * *

They were sitting in the foyer when Blaine’s car pulled into the driveway. Rachel got up immediately and Kurt pulled her back down by the arm.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Let me go out and talk to him first. After we talk, I’ll bring him in and introduce you guys.”

Rachel nodded. “Okay,” she said, sitting obediently back down. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll go…” she waved absently at nothing in particular, “do something,” she settled on. “Just text me when you guys are coming in. Or…you know…if you need anything…”

Kurt sighed. “For the last time, Rachel, he’s not—”

“A murderer, I know.” Rachel pursed her lips and stood up. “I’m just _saying_ , alright?”

Kurt watched her wander off in the direction of the kitchen with a faint smile on his lips. He took a moment to steady himself then went outside. It had stopped raining, at least. As soon as he shut the door behind him, the engine of Blaine’s car died and the headlights shut off. There was a muffled sound that told Kurt the door had been unlocked and he slipped into the passenger seat. He looked at Blaine timidly.

“Hey.”

Blaine watched him silently for a moment and then hung his head.

“You think I’m an asshole.”

“What?”

Blaine heaved a deep sigh. “On the phone,” he said in a low voice. “You were talking to Rachel. You said you were dealing with an asshole, not a murderer. Or…something like that.”

A flare of anger made Kurt clench his teeth. “Well you certainly sounded like one back at the restaurant, _Blaine_. You called me a slut. And you know, it’s one thing when we’re…fooling around, or whatever, but—”

Blaine held a hand up. He swallowed several times in a row. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I should never, _ever_ have said that, Kurt, and I could spend the rest of my life apologizing. Even when we _are_ messing around and I say things like that, you have to know I don’t mean a word of it. It’s just talk. It’s sex. It’s amazing sex, but it’s just sex. You know that, right? You know I don’t think you’re a slut, or anything even close to it.”

Kurt eyed Blaine and decided he was being honest. He decided to do him the same courtesy. “I wasn’t sure,” he said. “After what you said tonight. But I believe you. And I appreciate and accept your apology.”

Blaine’s smile warmed Kurt’s whole body.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt tried to keep a straight face but it lasted no longer than two seconds. He giggled. “Oh, I _suppose_.”

Blaine swooped in, cradling Kurt’s neck with his big, warm hand and pulling him into a heart-stopping kiss that made Kurt’s toes curl inside his shoes. Blaine’s tongue slipped between his lips and coaxed his own out, and it was like coming home. They kissed for several long moments before Kurt pulled away and rested their foreheads together, breathing heavily. There was a persistent heat in his belly he was trying adamantly to ignore.

“When I said before that I love you,” Blaine breathed, “I meant it. I just want you to know that, Kurt.”

Kurt pressed his lips together and pulled further away, keeping a hand on Blaine’s arm in an unconscious effort to comfort him. He just looked so _sad_. So abashed. It helped to assure Kurt he was doing the right thing by forgiving him so quickly.

“I believe you,” he told Blaine. “And I have really strong feelings for you, too. There’s just one thing.”

Blaine’s big eyes became even bigger. “Anything, Kurt. What is it?”

Kurt looked at Blaine sadly, as if willing him to quit the bullshit and admit to what he _knew_ the issue was. Indeed, he hung his head again and squeezed his eyes shut a moment.

“Will,” he said dejectedly. Kurt didn’t have to say anything. Blaine knew he’d hit the mark. He looked back up at Kurt and there was a resolution in his eyes Kurt hadn’t expected to see. “I know.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “It just doesn’t make sense, Blaine. What you said. About, you know, a normal life. If you love me and you don’t think you love Will, how can anything with him be normal? I just don’t understand. I don’t get—”

“I’m gonna leave him,” Blaine said abruptly. Kurt stopped short and stared at Blaine, processing the words.

“You’re…?”

“Leaving him,” Blaine said again with a nod. He breathed in deeply and back out. “Since you left the restaurant I’ve been thinking about it really hard, and I realized I was being an idiot. And an asshole.”

Kurt stroked a hand over Blaine’s cheek. “You’re not an asshole,” he said quietly. “Sometimes you just…do things that are kind of asshole-ish.”

“That makes me an asshole,” Blaine said stiffly. “And I’m _not_ an asshole. I’m not. I’ve been acting like one and it’s not who I am. I’m leaving Will, Kurt. For you. I’ve made up my mind. All I ask is that you give me some time.”

Kurt, who felt speechless, could only nod. “Of course,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion. “Blaine, I…you’re sure? I mean…I don’t…” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what to say, I didn’t expect…” He didn’t expect to feel so guilty, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. It had taken him by surprise and he didn’t know how to deal with it, this pity he was feeling for Blaine’s boyfriend. As though Kurt had intentionally stepped in and stolen Blaine away.

Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed his knuckles, looking up at him, into his eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Kurt. Like I said, all I need is some time. Just to…to work up to it. I’ve put myself in a position where I have to hurt someone, and I realized I couldn’t bear for it to be you. I don’t _want_ it to be you. I want to be with you, Kurt.” He wrapped Kurt’s hand in both of his and held his stare heavily. “I wanna be there when you get big with the baby, and I wanna be there when he or she is born, and I wanna…I wanna be there to make whatever decision we make at that point. Together.”

Tears had accumulated in Kurt’s eyes and he laughed wetly.

“This is crazy,” he chuckled. Blaine nodded.

“It is. But it’s so fucking right, isn’t it?”

Kurt fell forward into Blaine’s arms, across the console, and buried his face in Blaine’s neck. He smelled of the cologne he’d put on for their date and it was wonderfully familiar.

“I’m glad we got this over with,” he said against the material of Blaine’s jacket, pressing into his shoulder. “Being mad at you sucks.”

Blaine laughed. “You can say that again.”

They stayed huddled together another few minutes, enjoying the warmth and glow of their relationship, which felt stronger to both of them in the wake of the argument and consequential enormous decision.

  
  


“So, is this okay, then?” Blaine said finally, pulling Kurt gently away so they could lock eyes. “Will you give me some time?”

“Of course,” Kurt said. He smiled and kissed Blaine’s lips. “It’s not as though we’re waiting to announce anything to the world. Do what you need to do. I’m aware that it’s not just my life, you know.” He gave Blaine a pointed look. “It’s your life this is…is fucking with, too, and I—”

“Don’t,” Blaine said sharply. “Don’t even think that. What I said in the restaurant was completely out of line and completely untrue. You’re doing anything but fucking my life up, Kurt. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been, okay? I can’t believe I said that and if I could take it back I’d do it in a heartbeat. Please don’t think that had any truth to it.”

Kurt looked at Blaine timidly. “You wouldn’t have said it if it hadn’t felt somewhat true.”

Blaine groaned and his head tilted back against the seat. “It was a bad choice of words,” he said, looking back at Kurt. “Everything’s just moving really fast and I wasn’t ready for it. That doesn’t make it a bad thing. I’m scared of change, Kurt. That’s all it is. You’re not fucking my life up, you’re changing it. I can’t take back what I said; all I can tell you is that it’s the furthest thing from the truth and hope you’ll believe me.”

Kurt let those wonderful words sink in before saying, “I do. I believe you.”

Blaine leaned over and brushed their lips together. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I’ve never been so scared of having fucked up for good as I was when you ran out of the restaurant tonight. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even if you’re a little unconventional.”

Kurt laughed and kissed Blaine’s stubbly cheek. “We’re both a little unconventional.” He squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Now, do you think we can leave the big decisions behind us for tonight? You made one big enough for the both of us, I think.”

Blaine whistled low and nodded. “I think the biggest decision has been made for now, yes. We’ve still got plenty of time to talk about the baby. There’s just one more thing, though.”

Kurt’s stomach dropped. “What?” he asked cautiously, but Blaine’s easy chuckle loosened the knot in his stomach.

“Well, it’ll take some time before any big changes are made concerning Will, but I’d still like to formally ask you, between us, to be my boyfriend.”

Kurt made an undignified noise somewhere between a shriek and a squeal and threw his arms around Blaine’s neck, accidentally pressing against the horn with his elbow and blaring it into the still night. He didn’t care. He hugged Blaine until his arms were sore and then, for good measure, planted a wet kiss on his lips.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes. Of course, you big lug.”

Blaine pulled Kurt in for one more kiss before letting him move back into his seat and open the door.

“Thank god. And now that I’m officially dating one of my students, let’s go meet your friend.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for homophobic slurs.
> 
> Q/C/C hit me up on Tumblr: captainblanderson.tumblr.com

“Okay, now, wait.” Blaine tugged on Kurt’s arm, pulling him to a halt before they reached the wide double-doors of the Berry household. He tried to tell himself he _taught_ teenagers every day, but it did next to nothing in the way of calming his racing heart. He was nervous! Right hand to god, he was scared out of his mind. He’d _never_ been this anxious meeting Will’s friends. But then, Will’s friends weren’t teenagers. Which, logically, should have made meeting Rachel a breeze. But it didn’t. It effectively made Blaine feel, for the first time in years, like he was back in high school. Maybe going to meet his boyfriend’s group of friends from another school.

Kurt looked at Blaine, amusement shining through on his face.

“Yes?” he said deliberately—as though he could tell exactly what was going on in Blaine’s head, and was enjoying it quite thoroughly.

 _Probably is_ , Blaine thought. _He’s probably loving this._

And on the heels of that: _If this is my punishment for what I said to him earlier, I got off easy. More than easy. Scot-free._

“Is she…what’s she like?” he asked uncertainly, causing Kurt’s grin to widen. Blaine sighed heavily. “Is she gonna chew my head off? I mean, do I have to walk on egg shells around her? Am I gonna be strip-searched and interrogated?”

Kurt looked at Blaine with a quirked eyebrow. “I can’t say for sure she won’t grill you a little bit, but I don’t think you need to work yourself into a tizzy over it, either. She’s my best friend, she’s just looking out for me.” Kurt’s hand moved to his belly and Blaine felt a burst of warm affection fill his chest. He slung an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulled him close enough that he could plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I would brave hell or high water for you,” he said into Kurt’s ear. “And I can’t swim, so that’s saying something.”

“Hell would be smooth sailing compared to high water, would it?” Kurt quipped. Blaine grinned fiendishly and kissed his mouth. He squeezed Kurt’s hip where his hand rested.

“I’m hot-blooded.”

Kurt snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

Blaine pouted and received another kiss for his efforts.

Kurt let them both inside and when he saw the light in the kitchen, led Blaine that way. They found Rachel heating water in a butterfly-patterned teapot over the stove, three mugs (all baring the same horrendous gingham pattern in different shades of pastels) sitting on the counter to the side. She heard their footsteps and spun around fast enough that her long hair flew over her shoulder. Even Blaine, who was meeting Rachel for the first time, could see the effort she was putting into wrangling back any errant emotions. He wondered what those emotions might be, but thanked his lucky stars anyway because at least she hadn’t pounced—physically _or_ with her words.

"Hi," she said before Kurt could do the introductions himself. "I’m Rachel." She left the stove and went to them, holding a hand out to Blaine. He took it and shook.

"Nice to meet you, Rachel," Blaine said. He smiled—because it was natural, maybe habit, because he’d been raised that way. Manners and charm, they could get you through any situation unscathed, or at least minimally so. He saw the way her eyes got a little bigger, the way a lot of girls’ eyes had back in college, when he’d been at parties and he’d thought it the height of amusement to tease these girls who didn’t know him, didn’t know he was gay. Of course, he’d seen plenty of boys react the same way, and with these ones he’d gone farther, making their knees weak enough that they practically fell open for him without much insistence on his part. He had a wild, half-formed thought, then, comparing himself at that age to Kurt now. His own promiscuity in relation to Kurt’s, how different they were, how Kurt managed to somehow be more mature. How Kurt had never actually had _sex_ before Blaine, and what did that say about him? What did it say about both of them that they’d allowed themselves to end up in this situation they were in?

But the thought was too huge, too complicated, to dissect right now, and so he let it go with a small shake of his head and continued to Rachel, “My name’s Blaine.” He nodded at Kurt. “I’ve heard a lot of good things.” He saw Rachel shoot Kurt a sidelong glance that Blaine couldn’t even begin to understand, and his inability to do so drove another nail home into the already substantial and glaring idea that there was not only a large age gap between them, but a significant one. When it was the difference between twenty-four and thirty, it meant so much less. Even _less_ so when it was thirties, forties, fifties. But Kurt was seventeen, and Blaine couldn’t even say he was twenty-three anymore with any heart, because in another two weeks he wouldn’t be.

He hadn’t told Kurt that yet. Maybe because he was still trying to accept it himself. Not only the yawning age gap, but the fact of his own aging. _Twenty-four_ , he thought suddenly, eyes glazing over as his hand slipped from Rachel’s. _Mid-twenties. Officially. Twenty-five next year. What the_ fuck?

And with another small shake of his head and a long breath he put another smile on. His own personal anxieties that had nothing to do with the immediate situation effectively shoved into a cubby in the back of his mind (perhaps a few rows down from “Feelings for Kurt,” except this one had been ransacked and brought further into the light just recently), he focused his attention back on his surroundings.

There was a shove in his left arm and he looked at Kurt, who had an eyebrow raised.

"Okay?" he said softly.

Blaine blinked a few times and then grinned at the two teenagers before him. “I’m good. Sorry. My mind started…jumping around a little.” He gestured to the teapot, whistling but attracting no one’s attention. “I think the water’s ready.”

Rachel raced to the stove to turn it off and poured three steaming mugs of water. She set the pot itself on the island counter in the center of the kitchen and invited them to sit down, passing the mugs out. Blaine got the pastel yellow one—it was decorated also, he saw, with small purple flowers. Something that might have belonged to a very old woman. He was handed an Earl Grey tea bag and a spoon and he steeped it immediately, realizing he could use something strong at the moment.

When they’d all settled into their seats Rachel once again took the initiative:

"So you teach English at Kurt’s school."

Blaine told Rachel his side of the story. He left out more personal, explicit details, but in all other ways forced himself to be completely honest. Back at the restaurant, when Kurt had run out, the realization that this was _real_ had hit him so hard he’d not been able to stand from the booth for several minutes, sitting there like an idiot while other diners snuck curious glances. This wasn’t a fling, something fun to look back on (but never, ever tell Will about). It was a relationship—quite an extraordinary one, at that, and sort of beautiful, somehow, in some way Blaine couldn’t yet put his finger on—that had formed from lust, from a sexual chemistry neither had known what to do with, but a relationship nevertheless, and one he found himself taking more and more seriously as the days progressed.

And of course, Kurt was carrying his baby.

He couldn’t discern the expressions on Rachel’s face any better when he finished his story than he’d been able to at the beginning, so her next question, pertaining not at all to the situation, came especially as a shock:

"What about you?" she said.

Blaine blinked a few times and even looked to Kurt as though for help, but Kurt only looked back just as curiously.

"Me?" he said finally. "What do you…I told you my feelings." Feeling a little cynical while doing so, he didn’t mind adding privately. Explaining himself to a teenager—really! Was this where his life had taken him? But then he looked to Kurt again and it seemed less provincial. Besides, it was a teenager he’d gotten himself involved with, which meant his friends—other teenagers—were going to be involved at least somewhat. It was just difficult for him, he realized, because in the grand scheme of things he himself had only just broken the yolk of childhood, just begun to feel like he was truly part of the adult world, and now he’d somehow been thrust back into the land of teenagers and he was discussing this odd relationship with two of them. One part of him demanded _he_ was the adult, the teacher, the one who was more mature, wiser, had more world experience. This, ironically, was his childish side still clinging on. But it was another part of him—the one which had grown up dealing with emotional issues, family issues, a part of him which had had to grow up much more quickly than his peers—which balanced this out and allowed him to talk to Rachel without feeling like his age made him superior.

And anyway, hadn’t he learned in Health class that women matured more quickly? For all he knew, Rachel was technically on the same page as he was. He glanced at Kurt and wondered whether any of that extra estrogen in his body hadn’t spurred his maturity along, and thought it probably had. Almost definitely, in fact.

"I don’t mean you concerning _this_ ,” Rachel said. She gestured between them. “I mean _you_. What’s your story? Before Kurt, I mean. High school, college, growing up; Kurt’s never said anything about that.” She looked at him and he looked, in turn, at Blaine. His expression was strange…stuck somewhere between burning curiosity and ambivalence.

"You’ve always seemed sort of…standoffish about that," Kurt told him softly, meeting his eyes. "I never wanted to push. You’ve told me a little about high school, a couple boyfriends you had, but…not much else." He shrugged. Blaine realized in a wave of clarity how meaningful that shrug was. Kurt, his student, six-going-on-seven years his junior, had been able to shrug this off the past month. Even when Blaine had wanted to know Kurt’s story, had made him promise to be exclusive, had led his own, separate life, Kurt had waited to know about Blaine. He remembered thinking how their age gap meant a gap in the maturity and for the first time wondered if that were true, and to what extent.

"Damn," he whispered. "I guess I really haven’t…talked to you about me, like…at all. Jeez."

A small, warm hand landed on his thigh and Blaine turned to find a sweet little smile on Kurt’s face.

"It’s okay. We didn’t really know what we were doing anyway, and something told me there was a reason and I knew—I hoped—you’d tell me in time." He bit his lip, put a hand on his stomach, and continued, "I guess this has sort of sped time up."

Blaine let out a long breath. “Yeah. Guess it has.” He glanced between Kurt and Rachel and made another monumental decision this night.

* * *

Twelve years ago, when Blaine was just about that age, he developed a crush on a boy in his seventh grade Social Studies class. His family had lived in Ohio his whole life, and he went to a private Catholic school from the time he was in Kindergarten until high school. In his studies he’d learned that homosexuality was a sin, but had never put much thought into it until those weeks leading up to his realization: he liked a boy. Another boy. Not just in a friendly way, either. He’d been trying to understand it for about a month, had slowly come to understand why he was so nervous around this boy, why he wanted to be his friend so much more urgently than anyone else’s. Also, why he hadn’t been able to participate in any of the discussions his friends were beginning to have about girls in their grade.

When it hit him, when he finally allowed himself to make the connection, he was terrified. Like a man or woman who has been raped and is afraid to tell anyone for the misguided fear that he or she is to blame, Blaine was scared for the same reason. He didn’t _mean_ to, though, he told himself, it wasn’t as though he’d _chosen_ to pay any special attention to Caleb…it had just happened. He wasn’t a sinner, he was a good boy. He’d always been a good boy. How could this have happened?

So he tried to ignore it. At first. But it seemed the more he did that, the worse it became. His first wet dream did not involve Caleb, but a nameless, faceless boy, and that was the point. A _boy_. He hadn’t learned in school what nocturnal emissions were, didn’t know much about masturbating except that it too was supposed to be a sin, and it took him weeks to figure out why he’d wet his bed (he’d even washed his own sheets out of pure embarrassment, and fumbled through that procedure, just barely scraping by without having to break down and ask his mom for help because he couldn’t figure out how to work the washing machine), and why he’d woken with heat in his belly and the fuzzy stills of a half-remembered dream involving another person. Another boy.

He had muddled through the rest of his time in religious school carrying this secret with him like a weight that constantly made his body feel physically heavy. He became exhausted easily, lost motivation and energy, stopped seeing his friends. His parents openly favored their oldest son, Cooper, and paid little attention to their youngest’s withdrawal. His mom was only marginally less inattentive than his father.

The very pinnacle of all this came when his mother forced him to attend a dance in eighth grade. He’d not wanted to go, hadn’t any friends to go with anymore. He’d curled in on himself emotionally and even lost weight, physical manifestations of the torment going on in his head. His mother took him to the dance and he decided he would wait outside until it was over and tell her he’d had a good time. It would be a sufficient answer. She’d be able to tell herself she’d done the right thing as his mom, getting him out of the house.

An hour into the dance a couple other eight-graders—big kids for their age, and twice Blaine’s size with the weight he’d lost—came outside to smoke cigarettes. It started with poking, making fun of his bow-tie and calling him names. It escalated to pushing and talking loudly at him, wondering _why he didn’t talk to nobody, did he think he was better’n them?_ One of the guys was a freckly redhead named George with his gut distending his white dress shirt to the buttons’ very bursting point. Just before the redhead threw the first punch, Blaine thought wildly that if he were just a _bit_ fatter, those buttons would burst.

Once the first punch was thrown things went quickly. They took turns holding his arms behind his back and jamming their fists into his stomach. The redhead socked him in the jaw. They threw him down, finally, and kicked him until he was moaning in pain, then left him on the cement outside the school and went back inside. Blaine had had two broken ribs, a broken jaw, and bruises that had taken weeks to heal. This incident had been the tipping point in swaying his mom to convince his father to let him go to public school instead of continuing with his same peers.

It was the freedom of public high school that gave Blaine the courage to do some research. Without a class dedicated to religion, he was able to for the first time form the idea that perhaps the bible wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t the final answer, and maybe that meant he wasn’t so abnormal after all. Maybe he wasn’t the freak or the monster or the abomination he’d been telling himself he was.

It took all of his freshman and a good portion of his sophomore years to settle firmly in his own beliefs, and confidently, proudly, come out to himself as gay. He felt happy and relieved for the first time in years and he reveled in that for a week before he decided to tell his parents.

That changed everything.

His mother wasn’t happy—she thought it was a sin, thought he was going through a phase, being rebellious. Being strange, as usual. But his _father_. Oh, how his father raged. He called him a faggot, a filthy homo, he called him any number of other names Blaine had never even heard and that drove like knives into his heart. He felt physically wounded and couldn’t recall whether he could ever remember being in such pain before in his life.

And the worst of it was when they teamed up for their final attack, the thing that made him so utterly _useless_ now: “A faggot can’t give us grandchildren,” his father told him. “A faggot can’t give us family, and it can’t have a normal life.”

_It._

That stuck with Blaine a long, long time. Even when he’d moved on past his parents, allowed himself to blossom anyway. Ask a boy out his junior year and learn what it was like to _be_ gay, to experience kissing another man, touching another man’s body. To show affection for another man, and to have it shown back. It was almost as if the hatred from his family (and it came from his brother too—not in the direct form his father took, but by eliminating him from his life, particularly when he moved out to Hollywood). Even through his senior year, and falling in love for the first time.

 _It_.

As he got older, went to college, took classes in psychology, he wondered sometimes if his aggression had any roots in his family life, the way his dad had treated him; the way his parents had reacted to his coming out as gay, as _himself_. And beyond the aggression, the lack of respect he had for himself. He slept around, finding cute boys at college parties and fucking them in bedrooms, and basements, and bathrooms, and on, and on. Always in the back of his mind was the need to prove himself in some way. As a person, not an _it_. He could make these boys swoon, make them suck his cock and then let him fuck them.

His junior year of college that haunting word— _it_ —did not go away, but the physical manifestations of Blaine’s emotional trauma changed.

He met Will. And suddenly, in his mind, the way was clear. Will was cute, and funny, and _clean_ , and Blaine became obsessed with the idea that he could change his parents’ mind. With Will, normal was suddenly possible, and with normalcy had to come the graduation in his father’s eyes from _it_ to _son_.

Deeper than that, in his own eyes, from _it_ to _human being_. From _faggot,_ and _homo_ , and every other nasty, dehumanizing word his father had ever drilled into his brain to _person._

He could show his dad. He could show his whole family. He and Will, they could get married someday, that’s where the country was headed, they could adopt. His parents, they could have everything they wanted. And they had to like Will. Who couldn’t like Will? He was a likable guy.

If he could do that, if he could marry Will and adopt kids and have a _normal_ life, nothing in his past would matter anymore. He wouldn’t be an _it_ , he’d be a husband and a dad and he’d be a son again. And he wouldn’t be that scared little boy who’d gotten beaten up outside his school dance, either. He’d be strong, and he’d show his family—himself—that he could be successful. Gay, and strong, and successful.

* * *

“I’m not an… _aggressive_ guy. Usually. You know?” Blaine swallowed. “I’m _not_. Kurt, c’mon, other than when we’re…I’m not aggressive, okay?” He folded his arms over his chest, noticing but not caring much about the blush on Rachel’s cheeks. The one on _Kurt’s_ , on the other hand…

“You’re not,” Kurt said. He put a hand on Blaine’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him. This small action had the reaction of relaxing Blaine’s body so completely he actually drooped in his chair. “You’re just sort of…bull-headed, I guess.” He was trying to cover a smirk. Blaine rolled his eyes affectionately. “But, Blaine, I…” He stopped and sighed and looked into Blaine’s eyes. Kurt’s blue ones were swimming with emotion. “You’ve been through…well, you’ve been through a lot. I kind of…I don’t know, I…”

It was always interesting, Blaine thought, to see Kurt grasping for words, and he watched with his head cocked.

“A lot makes sense. Just a lot of… _things_ about you, little bits of your personality and things you _do_ and…it all just sort of…I get it.” He nodded to himself and looked into Blaine’s eyes again. “I get it. We have to…you know, talk by ourselves.” His glance flickered to Rachel and she looked down. Blaine got the feeling this was a rare moment of silence for her.

And then Kurt was hugging him. Blaine stilted only a second before wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and pulling him flush against him. Blaine’s heightened emotions caused a flare of heat in his belly when he felt the warmth between Kurt’s legs pressing on his thigh.

  
  


They left Rachel’s house shortly thereafter. Blaine was waiting at the front door and Kurt told him to hang on just a second. He thought Blaine couldn’t hear them in the kitchen, but he made out enough of what was said to feel badly.

  
  


“Thanks,” Kurt was saying to Rachel. “For…for getting him to talk. I was too nervous to ask him about his past, so…thank you.”

  
  


“He’s a good guy, Kurt. Just be careful. He seems like sort of a loose cannon. Emotionally. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially…” There was a pause, and Blaine knew intuitively the two teenagers were looking at Kurt’s stomach. “Be careful, alright?”

  
  


“I will. Thanks, Rach.”

  
  


Kurt’s footsteps echoed on the tile leading into the foyer and when he saw Blaine his eyes lit up and didn’t hesitate when he kissed Blaine on the lips, warm and soft and comforting. Kurt grabbed his hand and went for the door, but Blaine stopped him.

  
  


“Kurt,” he said in a low voice, one that wouldn’t echo and Rachel wouldn’t be able to hear. “I don’t want you to be scared to ask me anything.” Kurt’s blush told him he’d realized Blaine had heard his and Rachel’s secret conversation, but he said nothing. “We’re in this together now. I told you, I’m breaking it off with Will. Not…right away, not tomorrow, or this week, or…” He paused and swallowed. “But I will. I love you. Telling you all of that—” he gestured with his thumb back to the Berry kitchen “—wasn’t easy by a long shot. But if this is gonna work, we have to be honest, right? About everything. So if you have questions, ask them. If you’re worried or anxious or scared about something, _tell me_.” He put his hands on Kurt’s cheeks and saw that Kurt was on the edge of tears. “I’ve been a dipshit and that ends now. _Right now_. Okay?” Kurt, with his big, watery blue eyes, nodded. “Good.” He kissed Kurt and lingered a few moments. “Now, let’s—”

  
  


In his pocket, Blaine’s phone buzzed. They looked at each other with matching expressions of confusion, as though they’d heard a foreign noise, before Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled it out. When he saw Will had texted him, his stomach dropped. But when he opened the text, a smile formed slowly on his face.

  
  


“What?” Kurt demanded, trying to get a look at the screen. Blaine pulled it away, his smile having transformed into something devilish, and said, “C’mon,” grabbing Kurt’s hand and pulling him out the door.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“My car’s at the school still,” Kurt said when they pulled into Blaine’s spot in front of his apartment building. He said nothing in response, only went around to Kurt’s side and opened the door for him, enjoying the blush this produced. He led him inside and just before he opened the door, Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s arm. His fingers dug into his skin.

  
  


“Blaine,” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

  
  


“Will’s not home tonight,” Blaine said with a smile that split his face. The anger dropped from Kurt’s expression to be replaced by incomprehension.

  
  


“He’s… What do you mean, he’s not home tonight? What are you talking about?”

  
  


Blaine unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing inside. “That text he sent me at Rachel’s house,” he explained as Kurt cautiously stepped inside. “He told me he’s staying at his friend’s house tonight. She had a bad breakup with a boyfriend and she asked him to hang around.”

  
  


The irony of Will consoling his girl friend on a bad breakup tasted coppery and metallic in Blaine’s mouth but he ignored it. Was _able_ to ignore it in favor of the night ahead.

  
  


“Will you stay over?”

  
  


He closed and locked the door behind him and watched Kurt stray further into the apartment, looking around, as though Will might pop out from behind a couch. Finally, he looked back at Blaine, and Blaine saw with immense relief that that a wicked smirk had taken the place of Kurt’s anxiety.

  
  


“Yeah?” he said, face hopeful. “You want me to sleep here?”

  
  


Blaine went to Kurt and wrapped his arms around him from behind. He pressed on his belly and imagined he could already feel the bump, even if it was impossible just yet. He leaned into Kurt’s ear.

  
  


“Considering your car’s at the school,” he whispered against the skin of Kurt’s neck, “and it’s on the verge of thunder-storming again, I’d say you’ve got little other choice.” He felt Kurt shiver in his arms and his belly exploded with heat. Kurt turned to face him and pressed their bodies together, looking into Blaine’s eyes. He studied Blaine a moment, and Blaine used those seconds to appreciate Kurt’s lovely face. It seemed impossible that only a couple hours ago he’d been contemplating a life _without_ this beautiful, wonderful boy in it.

  
  


Finally, Kurt kissed Blaine’s cheek and stepped out of his embrace with a coy smile. He wandered into the kitchen, calling behind him, “We never got to eat dinner, you know.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Kurt made pasta (since that was all Blaine seemed to have in his house aside from frozen foods), but he added herbs and spices and cheese and it was nothing like anything Will had ever made. They ate curled up together on the couch watching old episodes of One Tree Hill. Blaine couldn’t pay attention to the show, though. He was too focused on watching Kurt eat, watching Kurt watch the show, watching Kurt lick his lips and delicately wipe away a bit of sauce from his chin. Several times they shared pasta-flavored kisses and Kurt, giggling, had to stop them before they upended their bowls.

  
  


Kurt washed the dishes when they finished and Blaine dried, and it wasn’t the first time Blaine had felt domesticity between them, but it was the first time it felt real. Like something that could last. He had a wild, half-formed image of them in twenty years doing the exact same thing with a son or a daughter doing homework at the table. It brought a burst of such overwhelming affection that later on, when they had put the dishes away, he grabbed Kurt’s hand and led him back to the bedroom.

  
  


Kurt stopped them at the door.

  
  


“Blaine, I…”

  
  


Blaine looked back at him, head cocked. “What?” He tried to tug Kurt in again to no avail. He looked heavily uncomfortable.

  
  


“I don’t know, is this…” He bit his lip and Blaine followed his sight-line to the bed, and then it clicked.

  
  


“Oh,” he breathed. He hadn’t even thought about it. Was that horrible? How bad was it to have Kurt sleep in his and Will’s bed? For a few moments, his stomach twisted and his mind turned and he went back and forth between trying to justify it and to talk himself out of doing something he knew was downright piggish. He was only marginally surprised when he came to his final conclusion. “C’mon,” he said, tugging Kurt into the room and closing the door behind them. Kurt went, but haltingly, almost as though he were trying to stay quiet, like Will might hear him Kurt in his room from however many miles away he was right now, consoling a friend on a breakup.

  
  


“You’re sure this is…?”

  
  


Blaine didn’t answer verbally; he sat Kurt down on the bed and then took his own shirt and pants off, leaving him in boxers. Then he helped Kurt do the same, until he was covered by nothing but his purple cotton panties.

  
  


“Those are cute,” Blaine commented with a raised eyebrow, trying to diffuse some of the tension. It seemed to work, too, because he saw Kurt’s shoulders relax and he climbed further into the bed, leaning against the pillows. Blaine crawled in next to him, lifting the covers over their bodies. The house was dark and the sun had finally set, and they lay beside one another in nothing but their underwear, Blaine’s arm draped heavily across Kurt’s waist. They stared into each other’s eyes and it was Blaine’s turn to fully relax when Kurt kissed him, then lifted a leg over Blaine’s waist, curling into him.

  
  


They stayed that way a few minutes in silence, Blaine breathing in Kurt’s scent, rubbing his hand alternately over Kurt’s arm and his leg, hitching it up higher and dragging the tips of his fingers along the underside of Kurt’s thigh. He felt Kurt press further into him and he could feel a damp heat on his hip where Kurt’s pussy was pressed up against him. He entertained the idea of slipping his hand just a bit further and then decided against it. The mood was too intimate, too wonderful, too serene and _perfect_ to change anything.

  
  


Kurt nuzzled into Blaine’s neck and breathed deeply, and Blaine felt his stomach swoop pleasantly.

  
  


“I love you, Kurt,” he said quietly. He felt Kurt smile against his skin and then yawn. It had been an emotionally exhausting day. Blaine yawned in reaction.

  
  


“I love you too, B.” His voice was low and scratchy and on the precipice of sleep.

  
  


The nickname made Blaine’s heart flutter. He kissed the top of Kurt’s head and reinforced his grip on Kurt’s thigh. “G’night, baby.” Kurt’s heavy breathing told him Kurt had already fallen asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

It had become something of a routine, visiting Blaine in the morning before class. It made the rest of the day a little bit brighter. Made the swelling rumors easier to tolerate. Kurt thought this might be the case for Blaine, as well. And the rumors were swelling, alright. He couldn’t go a day anymore without hearing whispers about himself and the new English teacher.

It was a chilly day in late November and Kurt was just beginning to show. He wasn’t sure it was noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but he certainly was, and he _certainly_ noticed. He was sitting on Blaine’s desk, kicking his feet, making thudding noises against the hollow metal (something which he knew bugged Blaine), focused entirely on his stomach. He rubbed over it obsessively, feeling its strangeness, knowing and in awe of the knowledge that it was a _baby bump_. He was nearly two months along now and Dr. Hayner (whom they’d had another appointment with last week) told him he was going to grow more quickly from here on out. He’d have to have check-ups much more often than a typical pregnancy, but Kurt didn’t mind. If it meant a healthy baby, he didn’t think there was anything he wouldn’t do.

“Kurt.”

Kurt heard Blaine’s voice distantly but it didn’t register. He continued to massage his belly.

“ _Kurt_.”

The index finger of Kurt’s right hand dipped inside his belly button through his shirt, head tilting in concentration.

“Kurt!”

Kurt’s head snapped up and he looked at Blaine with eyes the size of quarters. Blaine held a straight face for all of three seconds before giving into a laugh. He took Kurt’s hands off his belly and moved in close, planting a small, warm kiss on Kurt’s forehead. Kurt grinned dopily to himself.

“So I was thinking,” Blaine said, moving back but keeping Kurt’s hands folded in his own. “Do you wanna go shopping after school?” He looked a bit sheepish, and this caused suspicion. Kurt’s eyebrows dipped.

“Why are you saying that like you’re afraid I’ll bite your head off for the suggestion? Shopping where?”

“Baby shopping,” Blaine clarified, and the little nervous half-smile he wore was absolutely charming for reasons Kurt couldn’t for the life of him decipher. “You know…little onesies and those ridiculous little miniature fucking socks and tiny, baby-sized Converse.”

An undignified snort escaped before Kurt knew it was going to happen and the sound of it sent him into a fit of giggles. The pout Blaine adopted did nothing to quell his laughter and it went on for another minute before he regained control of himself. Despite his reaction, Blaine’s suggestion had warmed his heart. He pulled Blaine in by the nape and kissed his temple, letting his lips linger for a moment.

“That sounds like a plan to me.”

Neither acknowledged the conversation as being the very first in which their deep, as yet still-hidden desire to keep the baby surfaced.

***

“Why do we have to go to the city, though?” Kurt whined, watching the landscape zip by outside the window. Blaine was singing along with the radio, using his steering wheel as a drum, and Kurt huffed, tilting his head against the cold glass. “We could have just gone to Marshall’s, there’s one in the mall. _And_ a Lord & Taylor. _And_ a Macy’s.”

“Ah, but the chances of being spotted by someone we know are astronomically higher,” said Blaine in a horrible cockney accent. Kurt tried not to laugh, failed, and gave up, letting his hands fall to his stomach where he began massaging. “Hey, are you feeling alright? Are you nauseous? You’ve been rubbing your stomach all day.”

Kurt looked down at his belly and smiled softly. “Oh, no, I just…I don’t know, I can’t stop _touching_. It’s so weird, you know? I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” Blaine looked sideways at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Not the baby,” Kurt laughed. “It’s still too small for that. I mean, I can feel myself getting bigger. Haven’t you noticed?”

Blaine shrugged. “Yeah, a little bit. A _very_ little bit, mind you.” He winked and it was one of the cheesiest things Kurt thought he’d ever seen.

“Smooth,” he chuckled. “Will you still tell me I’m beautiful even when I can barely walk? When I can use my stomach like a table?”

Blaine burst out laughing and nearly drove them off the road. Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t too bad, and there weren’t many other cars. Kurt had insisted on waiting a while after school so they wouldn’t run into rush-hour traffic.

“Not only will I _tell_ you you’re beautiful,” said Blaine, voice suddenly much lower, raising goose bumps on Kurt’s arms and neck, “I’ll _mean_ it. I can’t _wait_ for you to get big, Kurt. I’ve always thought there was something amazing about pregnant women. They glow. I mean, I know people say that, but they really do!”

There was a spot on the street just down the block from Macy’s and Blaine parallel parked rather adeptly, getting it perfect on his first try.

“Maybe you should teach Driver’s Ed.,” Kurt said, eying the perfect distance Blaine had managed to put between his car and the ones in front and back of him. It was exactly even. “That’s a hell of a parking job.”

“Driver’s Ed.,” Blaine grumbled. “Sure, why not? More prestigious than English, anyway.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, laughed, and slipped his hand through the crook of Blaine’s arm. Blaine’s subsequent smile lit up his whole face. He used his free hand to cover Kurt’s, and as they walked down the street toward the department store, butterflies filled Kurt’s stomach. This was what he’d been missing, he realized suddenly. All the hook-ups and skin-deep relationships, they didn’t mean anything. This thing with Blaine, it meant something. And not just because of the pregnancy, either. There was something there between them, something that had started as lust and grown into a different four-letter L-word. They’d said it to each other a couple times now, but it was still mind-blowing for Kurt.

On the way to the baby department Kurt made Blaine stop in the men’s clothing, the women’s clothing, at a perfume counter, and a makeup counter. At this last Kurt bought an expensive foundation that Blaine didn’t shut up about until they reached the baby clothing.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Blaine ranted, pointing accusingly at Kurt’s little bag. “Your skin is perfect, first off, and even if it wasn’t…I mean, come on! Thirty bucks to put _skin-colored_ cream on your face?!”

Kurt shrugged. “Makeup sticks better when you put foundation on first.”

“You don’t wear makeup!”

Kurt laughed. “You only think that because I do a good job. Sometimes I use just a hint of eyeliner to make my eyes pop, or a little bit of blush to accentuate my rosy glow.”

“Your _rosy glow_?”

Kurt shoved Blaine’s arm and he stumbled, laughing, into a rack of onesies.

“Hey!” He ripped a dark blue one off the rack and held it up for Kurt to see. “’Daddy’s Girl’! Kurt, that works for both of us!”

“You know, that’s very true.” Kurt went to Blaine and took the onesie from him, holding it up to scrutinize. “Think of the money we’ll save on ‘Mommy’ clothes!”

“Should we get one in every color?”

Kurt looked to Blaine, an eyebrow raised. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding. I dearly hope you are.” He put the pajamas back on the rack and swapped it for a pair of pink ones. “I was thinking on the way here that it’s too bad we don’t know the gender yet, so we don’t know what colors to get, but then I was like, what am I talking about? The kid’s wearing blue either way. See? Like this!” He put the pink back and took out another blue one, this one a bright, pale blue. “God, I love this color. I don’t care if it’s a girl, a boy, or _what_. That child is wearing this color day in and day out. Oh, I hope it has my eyes!” He turned back to Blaine and looked hard at his face. “Your hair, of course. Oh, and your _nose_. Let’s pray for that. Not your ears.”

Blaine clapped his hands to the sides of his head, looking scandalized. “What’s wrong with my ears!”

Kurt scoffed and put the pale blue onesie back on the rack. “ _Blaine_. You have _attached earlobes_ , sweetheart. No child of mine will have attached earlobes.”

Blaine ran to the nearest mirror and looked closely at his ears. Kurt walked up beside him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You didn’t know?”

“Oh my god,” Blaine whispered, turning his head from side to side, then looking at Kurt’s ears. “Oh my god! You’re right! I didn’t even know there was a difference! Why are mine attached!”

“Well, you couldn’t be _perfect_ , could you?” Kurt teased. He kissed Blaine’s cheek, and when Blaine continued to stare at his ears worriedly, he added, “Oh, Blaine, I was _kidding_. Half the population have attached earlobes. Why do you think you never noticed? Nobody cares.”

“Really?” Blaine looked at him hopefully, like a child asking his parents for confirmation that Santa _is_ real.

“Sure,” Kurt said, turning away with a devilish smile. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt for the baby’s earlobes to be unattached.”

“Kurt!”

Laughing, Kurt sauntered away to look at another rack, this one full of bright sundresses. He picked one up and held it out.

“This is precious. I swear, if we have a boy, I’ll put him in dresses. Just watch me do it. You can’t stop me.”

Blaine waved as if to say, _Do I look like I care?_

“Blaine?”

“Mm?”

Nibbling on his lower lip, heart starting to beat a little more quickly, Kurt went to where Blaine was flipping through another set of sundresses.

“Have you…thought about that at all?”

Blaine looked up, probably hearing the nervous quality to Kurt’s voice, and his thick eyebrows came together. With one hand still on a hanger, he said, “Thought about what?”

Kurt shrugged, played with the hem of the skirt. “You know. Whether you want a girl or boy? Do you have a preference?”

Blaine finally released the dress and appeared to think about the question. He stared hard at Kurt, like he was trying to read something on his face. He was silent for almost a minute, and Kurt thought he would have killed a person just to know what was going on in Blaine’s head.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I have thought about it.”

Kurt didn’t know he’d been afraid of a different answer until relief washed over him at Blaine’s words.

“You have?” he said hopefully.

“Jeez, Kurt, of course I have. Look, I…” His sentence trailed off and he contemplated Kurt, chewing on his lower lip. He turned more fully toward him and said, “Do you wanna go somewhere else? It’s time we finally talked about this. It’s just gonna keep cropping up like this more and more frequently until we do it.”

“Do what?” Kurt demanded, heart picking up tempo again. “What’s going to keep cropping up? What do we need to talk about?”

“The baby,” Blaine said bluntly. Kurt felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“The…baby? What…what about the baby?”

Blaine was quiet another moment, eyes roving over every inch of Kurt’s face. He must have found something there, because his shoulders relaxed minimally. He shrugged, licked his lips, shrugged again.

“I wanna keep it, Kurt.”

***

Not much was said as they made their way back to the car. Kurt thought Blaine was probably mulling over the same problem he was: where did they go? Kurt’s house was out of the question, his dad would be home from the shop for the night. .He’d be going to DC in a couple weeks, and that would be a blessing when it came but they needed somewhere now. Blaine told him if Will wasn’t already home he’d be there in an hour at the most.

Instead of getting on the highway to go back to Lima, Blaine drove the other way.

“Hotel,” he said before Kurt could ask. “We have to go _somewhere_ , we can stay at that Hilton in the city, it’s just for the night.”

“Just for the _night_?” Kurt repeated, eyes bugging. “Blaine, it’s Thursday! We both have school tomorrow! What am I gonna tell my dad! Aren’t you supposed to be the adult here?”

“Yes I am,” Blaine said. His hands tightened on the wheel. “And as the adult, I say we need to talk. I mean, come on, Kurt, we’ve avoided it for two months. Every time we get near it we find a reason to shy away. We don’t have to _make_ any decisions, I just want to get our feelings on the table. For god’s sake, I don’t even know which way you’re leaning.”

Kurt was quiet a few minutes, digesting everything Blaine had said. He was right, of course. It was still early in the pregnancy, the decisions didn’t need to be made yet, but when the time came, it would be better if they’d been talking about it the whole time instead of avoiding the conversation until the last possible minute.

“Okay,” he said finally, letting out a deep breath. “Fine. But what am I telling my dad? He’ll never let me stay out on a school night, the idea’s ridiculous, I’ve never even considered it.”

“Rachel,” Blaine said, glancing sideways at Kurt. “Tell him you’re staying at Rachel’s. Make something up, say she had a fight with a boyfriend, I dunno. We _have_ to talk, Kurt. I’m going crazy.”

“I know,” Kurt sighed. “I know, me too. Fine. I’ll figure something out.” He bit the inside of his lip and his fingers fidgeted in his lap. “So you…you wanna keep it, though? You really do?”

Blaine didn’t answer right away. When he did, he sounded reluctant. “Yes,” he said. “I do.” He looked at Kurt again, and his eyes were bright and earnest, but they were fearful too. Kurt could see it clear as day, and it made him anxious.

“Then why do you sound so hesitant about it?”

“Look, let’s talk in the hotel room, okay? There’s a lot to be said.”

Five minutes later they pulled into the Marriot’s parking lot, and twenty minutes after that Blaine slid the keycard through the slot in the door to the fourth-floor hotel room he’d gotten. It was a single, and the decorations weren’t what Kurt would have chosen, but it was somewhere to talk, and it wasn’t a motel. There were perks to dating a well-off adult, it seemed.

Blaine loosened the tie he’d been wearing all day and sat down on the edge of the bed. Kurt pulled out his phone and called his dad. It was a lengthy conversation, because his dad didn’t like the idea. The only thing that finally convinced him was knowing Kurt would at least be in Lima (as far as he knew), and the fact that Kurt told him Rachel was completely distraught. He felt horrible about lying, but even worse was knowing this lie was nothing in comparison to the one it was covering up.

“Alright,” he said after fifteen minutes. He sat beside Blaine and put his phone down on the night stand. “I’m at Rachel’s tonight. He’s not happy about it. I told Rachel, in case she needs to cover for me.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Blaine said in a low, croaky voice. “We just…we _need_ to talk. You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Kurt sighed. “No, I do. Of course I do.” He shrugged helplessly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“So. You were saying before?”

Blaine shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, twisting his fingers together in a gesture of nervousness Kurt didn’t often see on him.

“I’ve been trying to decide whether or not to tell you the past few weeks. It didn’t seem fair, telling you that, when I’m sure you’re having an even more difficult time than me. I mean, it’s _your_ body. You have the right to make whatever decision you’re comfortable with. I didn’t want you to feel like I was…pressuring you, or something. I hope you don’t think I am.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t. I’m glad you told me.”

“Good. Good. I just…” He bit his lip, seemingly searching for the right words. He opened his mouth, closed it again. He let out a small, sharp breath. Then he looked at Kurt. “I’ve always wanted a family,” he said. His voice sounded strained. Something tugged in Kurt’s stomach. “Beyond thinking it would make my parents like me, which, I have to admit, ever since I told you and Rachel all that, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I…I realize how stupid it sounds. It _is_ stupid—”

“It’s not,” Kurt said softly. Blaine held a hand up.

“Of course it is. I can’t help how I feel, but it’s a dumb notion nevertheless. Trying to _get_ my parents to like me.” He laughed, and it was without humor. Cold and angry, and it made Kurt shiver to hear Blaine sound that way. “But anyway. Beyond that, I’ve still always dreamed of having a family. And being gay, it…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to adopt. I think it’s a wonderful thing. It’s just that there’s not…this.” He reached over and put a hand on Kurt’s stomach. Kurt covered it with his own and Blaine gave him a wavery smile. “Until I met you, Kurt, I didn’t know what it meant to really want to be with someone forever. To have babies with them, and grow old together. With Will, it was just me wanting to prove something. To my parents, to myself, to the world. But with you, none of that seems to matter. I love you because I can’t help loving you. And this baby…” He smiled softly down at the small bump of Kurt’s stomach, and Kurt thought, even in the dim light cast by the single lit lamp in the room, that he could see tears in Blaine’s eyes.

“Blaine,” Kurt said gently. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t want you to hide anything because of some misplaced sense of…of chivalry.” Blaine laughed wetly and Kurt grinned at him. “To be honest, I’m not really sure how I feel. I keep going back and forth. But knowing now that you do want to keep it…it helps. It makes me feel less…I don’t know… _immature_ for wanting the same thing.”

He heard Blaine swallow, and his hazel eyes dilated, became wide with hope.

“You…?”

Kurt shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know. But most of the time, I get the most anxious when I think about giving it up.” He paused and considered Blaine. “Do you think it’s stupid? Is it completely ridiculous of us to want this? _Does_ it make us immature? I’ll only be seventeen in April, Blaine. _April_. You’re twenty-three—”

“Twenty-four.”

Kurt, mouth hanging open, stared. “You said you were twenty-three.”

“I’ll be twenty-four on Sunday. May as well stop pretending.”

“ _This_ Sunday?” Kurt gasped, eyebrows raised, a smile pulling his lips upward in spite of himself. “Your birthday is the thirtieth?”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Blaine grumbled. “Mid-twenties, I ask you. I may as well be thirty.”

And despite the tense atmosphere, Kurt’s shoulders relaxed minimally.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Yeah, wait until it’s you. _You_ have six and a half _years_ to go before you’ll be in my shoes. By that time I _will_ be thirty!”

“And we’ll have a six-year-old son or daughter.”

Blaine’s head whipped around and he stared at Kurt with round, shocked eyes.

“You’re being serious?” Blaine whispered, jumping headfirst back into the original conversation. “You’re thinking about keeping it?”

“Were you _not_ being serious?”

“Of course I was!” Blaine said loudly, and it was with a visible effort that he reigned himself back in. “I _am_. I’m just a little surprised, is all. I thought for sure you’d be more inclined to want to get out of Lima the second you get your diploma and start building your career. You’ve mentioned a few times that you’d like to go into fashion. You seem like the career sort of person, I guess.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Remember what happened last time you made assumptions about me?” Blaine looked appropriately abashed. “Can we promise not to hide things anymore? No assumptions. We have to talk, Blaine. We’ve seen what happens when we don’t communicate.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. No more assumptions.”

Kurt nodded. “And thank you for telling me this. About wanting to keep it.”

Blaine still looked uncomfortable, and finally the words tumbled out: “You really don’t think I’m being selfish? Telling you this, putting it on your conscience? Knowing that I do want to keep it?”

“No, I think you’re being honest. And if this is going to work, honesty is the most important thing. We can’t hide big things like this from each other. It’ll just cause resentment. And in that spirit, I’m not saying I for sure _do_ want to keep it. All I’m saying is that I’ve been warming up to the idea.” He hesitated. “A lot.”

They fell into a heavy silence and Kurt cuddled up to Blaine’s side, who wrapped an arm around his waist. After several minutes, Kurt spoke again:

“I’m glad we talked. You were right. We needed to do this. Can we agree to be open from now on? We’re in a weird enough situation as it is. If we don’t have each other’s backs, who will?”

Blaine kissed the corner of Kurt’s jaw.

“Agreed,” he said, his voice lower than before, and Kurt thought he knew what they’d be doing tonight. He wondered whether there would be any sleeping at all. “We’re in this together.” His hand slid beneath Kurt’s shirt and up over his belly, making Kurt’s breathing shallower. Blaine kissed over his jaw, across his neck, and all the while continued rubbing. “And as long as we’re being honest, I’m honestly not sure how much sleep you’re going to get tonight.”

Kurt burst out laughing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to ask you guys to stretch reality to its breaking point from here on out (thankfully this is a theme on Glee, so we're all very good at it) and accept the fact that neither the headmaster, nor any parents, teachers, faculty members, staff, governors of the school board, or anybody of any real importance or authority have heard anything regarding any scandalous goings-on at the school between a teacher and a student, and if they have, they've found it in their hearts to let the story unfold without their interference. A big thank-you to them for their generosity.

The first snowfall came on the second day of December. Kurt walked into Blaine's classroom and began stripping off his outer layers as he approached Blaine's desk. Blaine watched this with an amused smile on his face. Kurt untwisted the scarf from his neck, then shed his heavy winter coat, followed closely by a lighter sweater beneath that as well as his mittens. He dropped all of this on Blaine's desk and then started in on his boots, which laced all the way up his shins like ice-skates. Blaine remained silent, one eyebrow raised as Kurt's mittens dripped onto the floor. He switched out his snow boots for another pair that looked expensive (although Blaine was willing to bet Kurt had found them for a price well below its original) and finally stood and let out a breath, looking rather flustered.

“I hate the snow,” he said, and flopped down onto a desk chair. His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and Blaine's chest fluttered at the sight.

“I kinda like it,” he teased, going to the desk where Kurt had sat down and bending to kiss him. “You look awfully cute like this.”

Kurt, attempting and mostly failing to hide a smile, swatted at Blaine's arm.

“So,” Blaine said, voice so falsely casual that Kurt stiffened, “I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I...I don't think we should find out the gender at your appointment next Saturday.” The words came out in a rush; he was nervous, he knew Kurt was leaning in the other direction. He had been, too, until just recently.

“What?” Kurt said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I thought you wanted to!”

“I did!” Blaine squatted down beside Kurt's chair, so he was looking up at him, and took one of Kurt's hands in his own. “No, I really did, I was totally with you on it, I just...maybe it'll be fun to wait, y'know?” Kurt opened his mouth, but Blaine was determined to have his full say first. “Wait, just...think about it. Even you said you don't care what the gender is, you're still going to dress him or her in whatever you want, right? And...well...I don't know what...we haven't really discussed—” Blaine stopped, cleared his throat, and continued, cheeks redder than before, “—what the living arrangements will be, but...I mean, we can just buy whatever colors we like for the...the furniture and all of that, right? Who cares if it's a girl or boy? And then it'll be so much fun when you _have_ the baby, finding out then. Don't you think?”

Kurt looked down at him for several moments, face contemplative. Blaine was dying to know what he was thinking but kept his mouth resolutely clamped shut, waiting patiently for Kurt to say something.

Finally: “You know, you're entirely right.”

Blaine blinked owlishly, taken by surprise at Kurt's calm acquiescence. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it clearly hadn't been that. He grinned carefully.

“...Really? I mean...yeah?”

Kurt laughed, looking down at Blaine with soft eyes and an even softer smile. Blaine kissed his knuckles.

“Sometimes you're too charming for your own good,” Kurt said. Blaine gave him a wide, toothy smile in response. “But, yes, I really do think you're right. Like I said, it doesn't matter what the gender is, it doesn't change anything. It'll be fun to wait. I completely agree.”

Blaine pulled Kurt out of his chair by the hand and grabbed him around the waist, so thrilled, so jubilant, that he lifted Kurt right off his feet and swung him around in a circle, Kurt laughing in his ear the whole time, gripping tightly around Blaine's neck.

In the past couple weeks since they'd finally shared their feelings about keeping the baby, they'd become much more comfortable with the subject. Neither was one hundred percent certain at this point how things would pan out or where they'd end up in the next seven months, but they'd settled mutually into a sort of silent agreement that, until decided upon otherwise, they would go ahead as though they were keeping it.

Kurt had grown to a size that had the school whispering about him. He heard them wonder whether he'd gotten fat, or if he'd finally gotten himself knocked up. He tilted his chin and ignored these comments, holding his head high, pretending they didn't light an anxious flame in the pit of his stomach.

The gossip about him and Blaine, however, seemed, miraculously, to have died down. His classmates had been actively wondering for about a week now which _student_ had gotten Kurt pregnant. Evidently the prospect of the new English teacher having been the culprit was so ludicrous as to not even be considered a real theory.

This second morning of December began a chain reaction which would change this.

Blaine had just planted Kurt back on the floor when his classroom door swung open. Both boys whipped their heads around so fast their necks nearly strained.

“Evan!” Kurt gasped. Evan, Kurt's best friend at Dalton, his kind face and sweet smile temporarily gone missing, stared in open shock at the spectacle he'd inadvertently intruded upon. His mouth hung wide, jaw looking somehow, disturbingly, unhinged, as though his shock had caused his joints to fall limp.

The three stood looking at each other for several very long moments that stretched into as many eternities. Kurt's heart was thudding so frantically he thought it a distinct and terrifying possibility that it would hammer itself right out of his chest.

Looking unequivocally uncomfortable, almost disoriented, Evan murmured, “I...” His mouth finally closed and he swallowed audibly, the small clicking sound in his throat as loud as a gunshot in the thick silence of the room. Then his chest began rising and falling more quickly, his face exploded in color, and as quickly as he'd come barging in, he was backing out again, eyes stuck on his best friend and his English teacher, before turning and high-tailing it down the corridor.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine said sharply, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing so tightly it stung, “Kurt, _go! GO! NOW!_ ”

Without thinking, without a further moment's hesitation, Kurt sprinted out of the classroom and followed the sound of Evan's heavy footfalls, already in the adjacent hallway, fading fast. He could hardly think, couldn't even begin to process what had just happened. His heart felt like it was choking him and his panic made him dizzy and disoriented, so that the halls he knew so well became confusing, looked foreign, and he found himself stopping in the middle of an intersection connecting two corridors, spinning on the spot, trying to orient himself. He blinked rapidly and was finally able to pinpoint the sound of footsteps again in the otherwise quiet school, the rest of the boys all shuffling into their first classes of the day.

When Kurt caught up to him, Evan was running toward the Senior Commons. He must have heard Kurt coming after him, because he stopped, turned around, and Kurt took advantage of Evan's shock, pushing him against a wall of lockers, hands flat on his chest. Kurt was breathing raggedly, but so was Evan, and they looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes.

“Evan,” Kurt choked out. His fingers dug into the front of Evan's cardigan. He tried to form words in his head, tried to sort his thoughts out, but it was impossible, everything bleeding together in a panicked haze. “Evan, listen...”

“The hell was that, Kurt!” Evan shouted. His eyes blazed and he seemed to at long last be gaining his composure. His face was the color of a ripe tomato, eyes shining with confusion, uncertainty, disbelief, a whole myriad of things; possibly even, and Kurt hoped he was wrong (but knew he was not), betrayal. “You told me I was being stupid!” He pushed Kurt's shoulders, dislodging his hands and causing him to trip backwards, just barely managing to regain his balance before falling on his ass. “You _told_ me everyone had it wrong, Kurt! Were you lying?!”

“Evan, I—”

“WERE YOU?!”

Kurt sucked his lip into his mouth and nibbled on it while his eyes filled with tears of shame. He'd never, ever, in the three and a half years he'd known Evan, seen him this upset. Evan was such a mild-tempered guy usually.

“You are pregnant, aren't you?” he said coldly. Kurt felt like he'd been dunked in cold water. The look Evan gave him was full of contempt. “You said you'd gained weight. You told me I was being _stupid_. You told me I should stop believing everything I hear.” He stepped closer to Kurt, and while Kurt's instinct told him to take a compensatory step backward, he couldn't move his legs. They felt rubbery and glued to the marble floor. “You lied to me about that, and you lied to me about _him_? Our _teacher_? Really, Kurt? Have you really been sleeping with everyone in the school all these years, too? Has all that been a lie?” He laughed without humor and his gaze became even chillier. “Tell me the truth. Just this one time, Kurt, be straight with me. You owe me that much.”

“Evan, I never—”

“Don't _tell_ me you never lied to me!” Evan shouted, startling Kurt back a step. “Look me in the eye right now and tell me you're not pregnant!”

Kurt didn't ordinarily have a problem with lying to people's faces...but Evan looked so thoroughly, disastrously serious, so devastatingly disappointed and _hurt_ , that Kurt couldn't make the lie come out. Instead, in a soft, defeated voice, he breathed, “I am,” looking down at his feet (which he could now see just the tips of). When he glanced up, Evan was nodding, his jaw tight, the muscles protruding from the sides.

“And tell me it isn't him. Tell me it's not Mr. Anderson.”

Kurt held his eyes as long as he dared, until it felt like the guilt would solidify in his throat and choke him, and, with tears building once more in his eyes, looked to the side and said, “It is.” There was an oppressive, suffocating silence, and he added, just barely above a whisper, “P- _please_ don't tell anyone.”

The next thing he heard was the sound of Evan striding past him in the opposite direction. Kurt held himself together for a count of ten more seconds, until Evan's footsteps began to fade. And then Kurt let his body sag against the lockers, let his legs give in and slumped to the floor, silent tears streaming in thick rivulets down his cheeks. They made his neck sticky and wet and he couldn't staunch the flow, instead gave into it, let them wrack his body. It wasn't just the shock and pain and humiliation of losing his only friend in this godforsaken place, but the crushing weight of the _certainty_ that by tomorrow the whole school would be talking about it. They'd gotten so lucky with everyone temporarily forgetting the rumors about him and Blaine in favor of speculating which of their _peers_ might have knocked him up, and now they'd taken that one blessing and flushed it down the metaphorical toilet.

Instead of going to Calculus, his first class of the day, Kurt wandered back in the direction of Blaine's classroom, intending to wait the remainder of the class out in the nearby bathroom, until he could go in and talk to Blaine during the passing period. His insides felt twisted up and swollen, never a good combination, and halfway to Blaine's room he changed course and headed instead for the courtyard. He didn't go outside—his stuff was still in Blaine's classroom (and god, he hoped Blaine had had the presence of mind to shove it all out of sight before his first class had begun)—but sat down instead on a little stone outcrop protruding from the wall that sat flush against a large window, so he could rest his head on the glass and watch the snow fall. On the other side of the courtyard was the window he knew looked in on Blaine's classroom. The shades were drawn, but he found his eyes stuck anyway, imagining he could see Blaine in there, trying to teach his class while keeping his composure, almost certainly as terrified as Kurt, maybe more so.

Kurt let out a deep sigh that fogged up the window beside his mouth, and when a stray tear slipped free, he didn't bother wiping it away.

He sat there throughout the entirety of the period, and five minutes before the bell was due to ring, he used all the considerable willpower inside him to heave himself off the small stone platform and trudge through the corridors to Blaine's room. He stayed out of sight until the throng of students leaving first period English had thinned, then slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. Blaine was gathering papers on his desk and when he looked up, his face drained of color. “Kurt! What are you doing!” Blaine whispered. He looked, at first glance, pretty much okay. It wasn't until Kurt stepped closer that he noticed a few strands of hair had broken free from the gel and his eyes held a frantic quality. “Kurt,” he said again, and this time his voice was low and dangerous, not to be argued with. “You need to leave. We'll talk after school.” When Kurt hesitated, biting his lip, everything inside of him _straining_ to be near Blaine, to absorb some of that comfort he afforded, Blaine snapped, “Kurt, _go_! I'm serious! I'll see you in a few hours!” Fresh tears pooled as Kurt forced himself to turn away, a hand coming up to his belly to rest there. He was a little more than a foot from the door when a warm hand curled around his elbow and pulled him back. The swooping sensation of relief almost made him queasy. “Hey, I'm sorry,” Blaine breathed into his ear. “That just... _really_ freaked me out. We shouldn't be in here alone today—probably longer. It's not safe. I'll see you sixth period, and we'll talk after school, I promise. I love you. Okay?”  
  
Despite the situation, Kurt shivered. It was still singularly unique to hear those words—so raw, so earnest—out of Blaine's mouth unprovoked.  
  
Kurt nodded, muttered, “Okay,” and spun to kiss Blaine's cheek and whisper in his ear that he loved him too before leaving the classroom, making sure no one saw where he was coming from, and with his shoulders fractionally less tense, went to his AP French class.

***

Kurt could have fainted with relief when sixth period came and went without a hitch. Nobody so much as looked in his direction (any more than usual, of course). Not for the first time today, he wondered whether Evan might have heeded his request not to say anything. Evan was such a good guy...but he'd been so angry. So obviously hurt by Kurt's betrayal. Kurt, of course, had Rachel—Evan didn't have any best friends besides Kurt. He had _friends_ , but Kurt had always been his confidant. He'd never seemed to mind Rachel, either, never one to get jealous.

The more he thought about it, the more he slumped in his chair, the harder his stomach churned with guilt. Why hadn't he confided in his best friend at the school? Why hadn't he trusted him? Kurt knew with utter certainty that, while Evan would not have been impressed, he'd never have judged Kurt. He'd never have given them away, never spilled their secret. It could even have been helpful, he realized too late, to have someone on their side at the school. Someone who might have been able to aid them in staunching rumors.

Even Blaine couldn't hold Kurt's attention as these miserable thoughts chased each other around his head during the whole of English class and throughout the remainder of the day. When the last bell rang, Kurt headed automatically to Blaine's classroom, stopping only when he was a few doors away. He remembered what Blaine had said that morning and, with what felt like the greatest effort he'd ever made, he continued past the door and out the front of the school into the parking lot. Blaine was parked where he was usually parked, with the rest of the teachers' cars in a sectioned-off part of the lot. Eyes hot, bottom lip trembling, Kurt went to the car and tried the driver's side door. It was unlocked, and with a huff of relief that brought with it more tears, Kurt slipped inside and turned so he could press his face into the leather of the seat, breathing in Blaine's smell, so wonderfully, mercifully familiar and reassuring. It was freezing cold, but Kurt just pulled his scarf (which, along with his other outerwear, he'd sneaked from under Blaine's desk after sixth period) more tightly around himself, huddled down into his coat, and closed his eyes.

 _Maybe when I open them_ , he thought, _it'll all have been a dream. I won't be pregnant, I'll be sitting in Blaine's car, but he'll be my age, and go to my school, and there won't be any Will, and he'll just be my regular, handsome, wonderful, teenage boyf—_

The passenger-side door opened and a freezing gust of air made Kurt's eyes snap open. He saw Blaine's form huddling inside, and when the door shut behind him, it muffled the sounds of the after-school parking lot once more. Blaine reached over and ran a gentle hand through Kurt's hair.

“Baby, what are you doing? Are you okay? I've been trying to call you the last ten minutes. Why are you in here?”

Kurt caught Blaine's hand and brought it down to his heart, clutching it like a lifeline. He squeezed his eyes shut and hot tears spilled down his already-wet cheeks.

“I c-can't do this, Blaine,” he sobbed. “I'm n-not cut out for th-this....”

“Hey,” Blaine said softly. He waited until Kurt was looking up at him to say, “How about you take a few minutes to calm down, alright, and then we'll...go somewhere.”

“Where?” Kurt asked wetly. Blaine's soft smile made his breath catch. He shrugged.

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever you wanna go. Just us. We can talk later. I think you could use—”

Kurt cut in, the words coming out like vomit, “Could we get a hotel room again?”

Blaine stopped, blinked, and stared at Kurt for so long that Kurt felt his cheeks heat up. On the verge of retracting the request, he forced himself to stop. He would never exploit Blaine's devotion to him, willingness to do just about anything to make him happy, but right now a place where he and Blaine could just be together, like a sanctuary away from the real world...it sounded like heaven. He needed it. And not only that—

“Please, Blaine,” he breathed, and keeping Blaine's eyes glued to his own, he took the hand he was holding and brought it down into his lap, pressing the flat of Blaine's palm between his legs, against his pussy, suddenly throbbing with want. It might have been a product of his hormones, or his wild emotions, maybe both, he didn't know, but whatever it was, he needed Blaine. Needed all of him, his body and his full, devoted attention.

“Kurt,” Blaine growled, low in his throat, eyes flashing. Kurt whimpered quietly and squeezed his thighs. “Kurt, stop—”

“Then take me to a hotel!” Kurt gasped out. “Please, Blaine, please, you don't understand, I need you so much right now—”

“You're scared, Kurt,” Blaine bit out, but in spite of his words, miraculously, his fingers were moving, just barely rubbing up against Kurt's pussy. “What we need to do is talk, you're deflecting, and I get it, I do, this is terrifying, but—”

Kurt leaned across the console and kissed Blaine hard on the mouth, swallowing his grunt of surprise. Blaine tensed, he tried to pull away, but Kurt got a hand around his head and held him in place, pushing his tongue into Blaine's mouth.

“Kurt—” he tried, but again Kurt stopped him, pressing their mouths together, and finally Blaine seemed to give in. His free hand came up to cup Kurt's cheek and he tilted his head, pushing back against Kurt's lips, sucking at his tongue until a deep moan was wrenched from what felt like Kurt's gut. “Climb in back,” Blaine breathed, tearing away, eyes wild.

“What—?”

“In back, Kurt, climb in back! I don't want you to get out of the car, we can't risk you being seen with me!”

Kurt nodded so hard it felt like his brain was being tossed around his head, but he made himself move, scrambling over the console into the back seat of the car. Blaine jumped out of the passenger side and relocated behind the steering wheel, wasting no time letting the car warm up before he backed out of his space and turned left out of the lot toward the highway.

When several minutes had passed and Kurt's heart, while still pumping frenetically, had calmed at least to a manageable pulse, he leaned over through the two front seats and put his face in Blaine's neck, sucking kisses into the skin where his neck and shoulder met.

“Which hotel are we going to?” he mumbled. He felt Blaine shiver and it made him smile to himself.

“Hilton,” Blaine said. “There's one twenty minutes from here, I think I remember how to get there.”

***

Blaine was sure that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the mature thing to do would have been to make Kurt stop so they could talk. When they got inside the room, however, and Kurt dropping on his knees in front of Blaine came second only to shutting the door behind himself, Blaine forgot why talking was so important. He could only stare, open-mouthed, as Kurt unfastened his belt and all but tore Blaine's pants open, gaze fixed unwaveringly on his cock, swelling under Kurt's hungry eyes. He pulled Blaine's pants and boxers down and, without giving him a chance to step out of them, grabbed his cock and began to stroke slowly, pulling a long, agonized groan from deep in Blaine's chest. He had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on Kurt's head, twisting his fingers into his soft hair.

“Are you gonna suck my cock?” said Blaine, his voice low but soft, almost crooning. Kurt looked up at him, his blue eyes so deceptively innocent, lips pouted and pink and so perfect. “Come on, baby,” Blaine cooed. “Put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Kurt looked reverent as he lifted Blaine's cock and drew a wet line up the underside with his tongue, sucking the head into his mouth when he reached the tip. His small wet mouth sunk down over Blaine's cock, and Blaine watched with wide eyes as Kurt took most of him in without any visible effort, his hand taking care of the last inch. When his legs started to wobble and it became only a matter of time before they gave out, he pulled Kurt back up and kissed him.

“Get on the bed for me,” he whispered. But Kurt hesitated, and in those few moments Blaine saw something that looked like uncertainty. His eyebrows came together and he put a hand under Kurt's chin.

“What's wrong?”

First Kurt shook his head, but he stopped halfway through and looked up at Blaine through his long eyelashes. When he bit his lip, Blaine knew Kurt was about to voice something interesting.

“Blaine?” he said in a shaky voice unlike his own. “Do you think, just...right now, tonight, we could...forget everything?

“What—?”

But in his nervousness, Kurt cut Blaine off and continued on his train of thought “The baby, the...illegality of everything we're doing, just...life, I guess. Can we just put life aside for a minute?”

Blaine watched Kurt carefully, head tilting halfway through Kurt's fumbling request. He ran his tongue over his lower lip in consideration. Blaine's plan from the beginning had been to spend tonight not worrying about their situation. Enjoying each other, watching movies, having sex, maybe talking about other things, but not life. Conversations about life had never been his plan, and he knew Kurt knew that, so that led Blaine to believe there was something more to this request than he was understanding.

Finally, he said, “Yeah, I think we could do that." Kurt's shoulders relaxed and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “Did you have something specific in mind, Kurt?"

Incredibly, Kurt blushed. It was still strange for Blaine to see this shy, timid Kurt, when the mask he wore every day was one exuding confidence and sex appeal. Maybe it wasn't even a mask. Maybe, like everyone else in the world, he had more than one side to his personality, and Kurt was just a little bit more protective and insecure about this one. Blaine felt a swell of gratitude at being trusted enough to see a side of Kurt he guarded so closely.

Kurt put his palms flat against Blaine's chest and looked into his eyes with the hint of a coy smile.

"I want to pretend we're back in that first day you started teaching." Blaine felt his eyes grow and his heart begin to thump but he kept silent. "I want to pretend there are no risks, no consequences, just you, the hot new English teacher, and me, the slutty, _virginal_ schoolboy with a crush and an unfortunate tendency to not pay attention in class because I _just_ can't help staring at your arms, and your beard, and your _cock_ , thinking about what it would be like if I could get—" here Kurt stood on his toes to breathe into Blaine's ear "— _Mr. Anderson_ to fuck me over his desk."

Blaine felt his blood boil. A tight, coiling heat made his stomach clench and his cock stiffened. He swallowed, closed his eyes and slipped into a different head space, and when he opened his eyes again he really _felt_ like it was that first day again. He remembered seeing Kurt, his tiny shorts, his laughing blue eyes, the swing of his hips. Now he was being given a chance to recreate that experience without the setbacks of actually being at school, the initial hesitation due to their student-teacher relationship, Blaine having a boyfriend...none of it mattered here. They could take that intense sexual chemistry and run.

There was a small desk in front of the window with a chair and Blaine went over to it, leaning back against the desk and surveying Kurt with a teacher's disapproving gaze. Kurt played his part flawlessly, cheeks adopting a pink hue as he shuffled forward with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson?" he said quietly. Blaine’s blood roared. He stepped away from his desk and gestured to it with one hand.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Kurt went to the desk and propped himself up on it. Blaine stepped forward, pulling Kurt's legs apart and standing between them. Kurt's cheeks had darkened and his lips were parted, emitting small puffs of air. He was good at this, Blaine noted, and filed it away for future reference.

"Not only," Blaine began, resting his hands on Kurt's thighs, "have you been missing assignments, but you fail to pay attention in every single lesson." Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine talked over him, "Are you bored by my classes, Kurt? Are they not interesting enough to hold your attention?" With his mouth next to Kurt's ear, he said, "Or are you just too busy playing with your pussy the whole time?"

The whimper that came out of Kurt's mouth couldn't have been faked.

"M-Mr. Anderson," Kurt stammered, but Blaine hushed him, moving his hands further up Kurt's thighs and squeezing.

"Is your pussy so needy you can't wait until after class?

Kurt opened his mouth to speak but Blaine quelled him with a look. His gaze was dangerous—nothing like it had been only half an hour ago, when he'd been determined to do anything in his power to make Kurt stop hurting so much.  
  
"I want you to take your pants off and get back on the desk," Blaine said. Kurt complied after a moment, hands shaky as he undid the button and fly and shimmied out of them. As he was about to hop back onto the desk, Blaine spoke again, "Panties too, slut. Show me how dripping wet you are for me."  
  
Kurt's cheeks were flaming red. Blaine wasn't sure he'd ever been so turned on. Kurt removed his panties and finally sat back on the edge of the desk, spreading his legs just like he had the first time they'd done this is Blaine's classroom. Only this time, there would be no distractions, and no risk of being caught. No hesitations or reservations. Just them, and this; it was filthy, and it was beautiful.  
  
"What do you think, Kurt?" Blaine hummed, hand going straight between Kurt's legs where he began to rub over his hot, wet pussy with slow strokes, making Kurt whimper and squirm. "Would a spanking teach you to behave in my class? Is that what it'll take to get you to pay attention?"  
  
The way Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers told Blaine that whatever he'd expected from this, it hadn't been that. The shock of it left him genuinely breathless and Blaine felt his cock swell at this reaction. He laughed condescendingly and put his mouth next to Kurt's ear, palm still slipping up and down over Kurt's puffy pussy lips, and whispered, "Does that sound good, baby? Should I give that greedy pussy of yours a spanking?"  
  
He heard Kurt's breath hitch.  
  
"My...?"  
  
"That's right, baby, your _pussy_. Why would I spank your ass when it's your cunt that's the problem?"   
  
Kurt seemed at a temporary loss for words, so Blaine, smirking, maneuvered him onto his back, spread out over the desk with his ass at the very edge. Blaine held Kurt's right leg up and used his other hand to continue rubbing at Kurt's pussy, swollen, puffy, and glistening, lips parted to show his stiff, throbbing clit. Before doing anything else, Blaine ran his thumb over the hard little bump and Kurt bucked his hips, whimpering.  
  
"So sensitive," Blaine cooed. And without any further warning he delivered a quick, smart slap to Kurt's cunt and Kurt cried out. His hole clenched and his legs made automatically to close, but Blaine held them open, spanking him again, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. "God, look at this," he whispered, and slapped him again. Kurt let out a sob. "You're dripping all over my hand, you dirty slut. How many do you think you deserve?" He spanked him three more times in quick succession. Kurt positively keened, hips arching. "That was six. Count out four more for me, baby."  
  
"One!" Kurt cried, toes curling. "T-two!" After the second he reached out and grabbed Blaine's bicep, digging his nails on. "Mr. Anderson, please, wait, I—oh! Th-three! Four!"  
  
Blaine stared greedily at Kurt's abused pussy, red and raw and soaking wet. When he pinched his clit, he could feel it throbbing, and knew Kurt had enjoyed that, just as he'd thought he would. Now he went back to rubbing, playing gently with Kurt's sore folds while his breathing evened out.  
  
When his chest wasn't heaving as rapidly, Blaine took his hands back and ripped his shirt off, then worked on his own pants, pulling them and his briefs down enough that he could pull his cock out. He remembered he'd been entirely naked the first time he'd fucked Kurt, but since they didn't have the reality of the classroom and the school building, keeping some clothes on added authenticity. Like they were rushing.  
  
He positioned himself between Kurt's legs and rested his hard, thick cock on Kurt's swollen cunt, rubbing back and forth through the lips, bumping against his clit with the fat head. Kurt squirmed beneath him but Blaine held him down by his hips, pushing his cock through his wet folds until Kurt was moaning and writhing on the desk.  
  
"Mr. Anderson, please!" he cried, pumping his hips, trying to impale himself on his teacher's cock.    
  
"Not yet, baby," he said softly. "Tell me how many times you fucked yourself in my class. How many times did you leave pussy juice all over the chair?"  
  
"I—I don't know!" Kurt gasped. And Blaine saw he was getting desperate. _Really_ desperate, not just acting. "Every—everyday! All the time! My pussy's always so needy, you make me so _wet_ , I couldn't help it, sir, I'm sorry! Please fuck me! Please, please, I need your cock so badly!"   
  
"Shh, I know, baby," Blaine cooed, and as he said it he began pushing inside, Kurt's long, lithe body arching immediately into it, a filthy, high moan coming out of his mouth as Blaine sank all the way inside. "That's it," he breathed, watching Kurt reverently as he took his cock, as his face screwed up in ecstasy. "Fuck, _just_ like that. Make that little pussy open up for my big cock, baby."  
  
He fucked Kurt slowly at first, loving the little desperate noises he pulled out of him every time he rocked into his body, letting them stoke the fire in his belly. At some point during this Kurt's legs clenched around Blaine and his whole body seized up. His head flew back against the desk and fluid squirted out of his pussy, getting on Blaine's bared midriff as well as the bottom of his shirt. He groaned and started going at Kurt harder, who had now reached down to rub at his clit with three fingers.  
  
"Fuck, Kurt—" Blaine started, but whatever else he meant to say died in his throat when Kurt threw his head back once more, let out a painful moan, and squirted again. His hand didn't stop on his clit. He kept rubbing, fucking his hips onto Blaine's cock, and the whole time little spurts of liquid squirted from him around Blaine where he was hammering into him. "You filthy slut," he managed through gritted teeth, even as Kurt howled and came again, hips bucking erratically. "So desperate for my cock you can't stop squirting all over me. C'mon, slut, make that pussy squirt all over my cock."  
  
Somehow, Kurt managed to lift himself onto his shaky elbows and his head hung back, letting Blaine use and abuse his body, jerking him with every harsh thrust. His groans were constant now, and Blaine could tell when he was about to come again by the frantic degree of moaning. It got louder, sounded more like Kurt was in pain, tears began leaking down his cheeks, and then he was squirting again, mouth open in silent ecstasy, body shaking and completely at Blaine's mercy as he finally, _finally_ approached the edge himself and ground his cock deep into Kurt's wrecked cunt as he came. Kurt clenched down around him again at some point during, but there was so much come, and everything was already so wet, it was impossible to tell.  
  
Slowly, carefully, when his vision was no longer swimming, Blaine slid out and tucked himself clumsily back into his pants. Kurt was an incoherent mess on the table, lying in a puddle of his own juices, and with a satisfied smirk Blaine lifted him up and brought him to the bed. He used a warm, damp towel from the bathroom to mop up Kurt's pussy until it was as clean as it was going to be for now. A smile had blossomed on Kurt's lips and he turned to face Blaine as he finally lay down beside him.  
  
"That was...something," he laughed softly. Blaine raised an eyebrow, licked his lips.   
  
"You could definitely say that." He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Kurt's lips. "I've never seen you like that before."  
  
Kurt looked smug. "Pregnancy hormones, I guess."  
  
"I don't care what it is, as long as it wasn't a one-time deal."  
  
Blaine heard Kurt laughing as he rolled over and grabbed a room service menu off the bedside table.  
  
"Hey, look," he said, scooting over to Kurt and pointing to menu, "they just started dinner, we can order it to the room!"  
  
"Ooh, good." Kurt sat up and leaned over Blaine, scanning the menu for anything not soaked in fat, Blaine guessed. Taking into consideration their intense workout just now, Blaine thought they were probably allowed to splurge. Kurt seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he said, "Tell you what, just order a bunch of stuff and I'm gonna shower real quick." He stood from the bed as Blaine went to grab the phone, eyes on Kurt's bare, wiggling behind. Just before he went inside, however, he turned back and said, "Make sure to get that barbecued chicken. I'm craving chicken."  
  
For some reason that comment, paired with the afterglow of amazing sex with his hormonal boyfriend, made Blaine feel happier, more excited about this baby than ever before.  
  
Consequently, it was this comfortable, safe, almost domestic environment, with the sound of Kurt showering in the next room, that gave him the feeling for the first time that, despite what had happened today at school, despite everything that was yet to come, they really might be okay. 

***

On Monday, Kurt kept his head down at school. When he'd left on Friday, it had seemed as though Evan had kept his mouth shut. Kurt had no way of knowing whether that was because of shock or a lingering sense of loyalty, but he was grateful all the same, and hoped word hadn't spread over the weekend. There were mutterings in the hallway, but there were usually mutterings, and he made a point of blocking them out. If they were whispering about him and Blaine, he didn't want to know.

The first six hours of the day continued in this pattern. Mutterings, whispers, pointing, everything Kurt was used to, nothing to make him believe Evan had told anyone what he'd seen. What he'd forced out of Kurt with his betrayed expression. Even Blaine's class sixth period went by just about flawlessly. The only difficulty was managing to keep his eyes to himself and try to avoid thinking about their weekend at the hotel lest his face burst into flames. By the time he was on his way to seventh period Kurt was feeling hopeful. Evan had always been a decent guy, who was to say he'd ruin Kurt's life just because he felt betrayed? With this thought in mind, Kurt was nearly skipping when someone shoved him sideways against a wall of lockers.

Rubbing his shoulder, heart pounding, eyes slitted murderously, Kurt whipped around only to find Hunter Clarington smirking at him with every single one of those straight white teeth.

"Hey, Kurt,” he said in an overly casual way that only accentuated the mocking tone beneath. “I heard some very interesting things this weekend from my good friend Jerry.”

Kurt's heart plummeted. Jerry Frederickson was another Rugby player and a Warbler, good friends with Hunter and all the rest of the popular boys at the school. He was also very close friends with Evan's older brother Thomas, who'd graduated the year before last and went to Ohio State. _He didn't tell anyone from school_ , Kurt thought hysterically, and his veins seemed to throb with the frantic pumping of his heart. His fingers had developed a heartbeat. _He told his brother. Thomas told Jerry, and Jerry told Hunter_. And once Hunter had known.... Kurt's carefully-crafted illusion of safety—maintained by adamantly blocking out any whispering today—shattered and left him feeling strangely winded. He couldn't find his voice, whether to confirm or deny Hunter's forthcoming accusations.  
  
”Yeah?” Kurt said, forcing a calm demeanor despite the panic building in his head. It would be worse to show Hunter his panic. Egg him on.  
  
This thought brought on another: why was Hunter doing this?  
  
”Yeah,” Hunter said, voice even and pleasant. He looked like an animal backing his prey into a corner, eyes dancing with the prospect of playing with his food first. “In fact, I heard a _couple_ things. Where shall we begin in this tangled heap of juicy secrets? Let's see.” He raised a finger to his chin, miming deep thought. “Well, we learned that you're not the nasty little slut you had everyone believing. You're actually a nasty little _tease_ who uses a false reputation to make yourself feel _above_ everyone else. Is that what you think, Kurt? That you're _better_ than all the boys you dangle off your finger?”  
  
Kurt couldn't find his voice. He hadn't imagined Hunter would know this much. That Evan would spill _everything_ , even to his brother. It left Kurt feeling numb, and as much as he'd have liked to defend himself, he couldn't make his throat work.  
  
”So,” Hunter continued, “after parading around your status as the village bicycle because it made you feel good about yourself to know that all these guys thought there was something wrong with _them_ because you wouldn't let them fuck you, when really you're just psychotic and have low self-esteem, after _that_ you thought it would be _really_ fun to see if your slutty act would work on the new English teacher, because what Kurt wants, Kurt gets, right? If it ruins someone else's life—or even loses them their job—that's inconsequential, isn't it? So then you went ahead and really _did_ fuck him! And how do I know that for absolutely certain?”  
  
Kurt's breathing was labored at this point, tears welling in his eyes, on the very brink of spilling over. He might normally have pushed Hunter away and made a run for it, but he couldn't work his legs. Hunter stepped forward and his eyes dropped to Kurt's stomach. They were alight with mirth and bad humor.  
  
”I know because you're not getting fat, are you, Kurt?” His voice had dropped to a low, dangerous purr that made Kurt's hair stand up. “Oh, no. An illegal affair wasn't enough for you. So you went ahead and got pregnant with the teacher's kid.”  
  
At that moment he reached his hand out toward Kurt's stomach. Kurt didn't know if he actually planned to touch him, but some sort of protective, maternal instinct snapped into gear and Kurt found himself taking off in the opposite direction, tears streaming down his cheeks, and when he made it to the front of the school he pushed through the doors and into the parking lot.  
  
He didn't stop until he reached Blaine's car. Thanking his lucky stars that he had a boyfriend who was very intelligent but not always on top of his common sense, he pulled the unlocked driver's-side door open and climbed inside. It was the second time he found himself in this position in less than a week, and the sense of his life spiraling completely out of control was suddenly so strong he became nauseous. He only just managed to throw the door open again in time to empty his stomach onto the pavement. When he thought it was over, he swung the door closed and leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed and his hands resting over his stomach, letting his breathing even out.

This was it. The secret was out. It was still only a rumor until he confirmed it, but nobody would doubt Hunter's word.

 _Six months_ , Kurt reminded himself. He skated his fingers over his stomach, letting the feeling soothe him, and maybe the baby growing inside of him, too. _Six months and nobody at this school will matter anymore._

It was a nice thought, but it came with a catch:

That still left six more months of this.


End file.
